Captain's Prerogative: A Star Trek NG novel
by fictiongal
Summary: The crew of the Enterprise is in upheaval when an unpredictable but desirable genetically-engineered woman insinuates herself into their lives. The story follows 'Star Trek: Generations', but opens 102 years earlier with Captain Kirk. Look for adventure, romance, and Q messing with Picard again. Please read/review.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Somewhere deep inside the need stirred again, rousing him to awareness, compelling him to try once more. The force of his mind dove into the goo of raw genetic materials gathered from throughout the universe, sifting, sorting, searching. With utmost care he chose. With endless patience he examined, separated and joined the genetic codes into new combinations. He did not measure the passage of time nor take any note of it. He did not tire. The fire of creation and need burned in him. At last, he gazed upon the finished DNA, 99.9% unchanged from its original donor. Oh, but what a difference that .1% could make, if it survived. But he had no fear it would not. He knew how to nurture it, to test it, to educate it, to see it to maturity. His creation would grow and thrive, and when ripe, he would pluck it.

###

Earthdate: 2269

Stardate: 6139.5

The four man landing party just transported to the planet's surface surveyed their surroundings - a lush tropical forest. Huge leaved vines entwined sinuously up red-barked tree trunks broader around than the four could have reached joined hand-to-hand. Platter sized winged insects flashed rainbows of color as they flitted in and out of the shadows or landed on blood-red flowers speared in their centers with stamens of bright blue. They might have thought it paradise if observed in a painting. In real life, they felt dwarfed in an oversized world - too large, too bright, and far too hot and humid for human comfort.

At least they needn't worry about any large carnivorous wildlife - only plants, insects, reptiles and small rodent-like mammals indicative of a Class-M planet in the early stages of its evolutionary processes. They were here on a routine botany mission. They pushed through the forest taking samples as they went.

Before long, hidden in the dense foliage of the trees, a pair of green eyes followed them. The slender figure leaped silently from branch to branch outdistancing them at times then falling back behind, occasionally even dropping to the ground nearby to peer at them through the undergrowth.

Lt. Hernandez, the tall big-boned man at the rear caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye but when he turned to look, he saw nothing. Probably one of those flying insect things, he thought. Ahead, his dark-haired superior with the slight greenish cast to his skin paused, looked closely at his tricorder then stared off again into the forest.

Captain Kirk noticed the hesitation of his Vulcan officer.

"Something wrong, Spock?"

"I believe we are being watched," Mr. Spock announced. He examined the tricorder's readings closely then aimed it ahead and upward. "The creature is sizable, appoximately 1.75 meters in length, and, at the moment, located 21.3 meters above us."

The men looked up but could see only the dense green canopy daggered with sunlight. Branches and leaves swayed and shimmered above them.

"One of those large yellow reptiles?" the Captain asked.

"Negative. It appears to be warm blooded. Additionally, the known reptiles are not tree-climbers."

"Let's move closer. We'll see what it does."

The Captain led them forward while Spock targeted the creature's location with his tricorder. A crashing noise followed by a spray of mud behind them startled the men into spinning around. Suddenly, Spock's tricorder was ripped from his arms. He yelled and grabbed at the strap as it flipped up out of reach. Lt. Hernandez in charge of Security jumped in front of Spock, his phaser drawn. The others pulled their phasers out also but all they could see was the thick growth. They stood in a tense circle scanning for movement. The forest seemed undisturbed.

Ensign Baker, the assigned botanist of the party, pointed to the edge of the muddy puddle they had just passed where a basketball sized orange-colored nut now floated. "Looks like that's what fell," he said.

"An intentional distraction, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"If so it would indicate at least a rudimentary intelligence," Spock concluded.

"And the tricorder?"

"Perhaps whatever is following us does not wish to be tracked," Spock's comment was accompanied by one raised eyebrow. Like his companions, he continued to stare upwards searching the trees. He took a step backwards and caught his heel on a gnarled root. Off balance, he wind-milled his arms before splashing tail first into the puddle, landing on his back with his legs splayed like an upended turtle. Baker started toward him, when from high above a light mirthful trill froze them in place. Spock scrambled to his feet.

"That sounded like laughter!" Captain Kirk exclaimed. He flipped open his communicator and contacted Mr. Scott, the ship's engineer. "Scotty, scan for all warm blooded humanoid-sized life forms within 1 kilometer of our position." The results came back within seconds - no longer just four, now five detected.

"So why didn't it show up before?"

"I can't explain it, Captain. But I have a lock on the life form now," Mr. Scott replied, "Shall I transport it to a holding cell?"

"No, not yet. I don't want to traumatize it if we don't have to."

"Captain," Spock interjected. "As First Officer, I must respectfully request that you return to the ship until this creature is restrained."

Kirk smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. Request acknowledged and ignored."

Spock merely raised his eyebrow again in protest.

"Let's set up camp in that clearing back there. Perhaps, curiosity will get the better of it."

As they worked their way back to the clearing, every flicker of motion or rustle of leaves seemed evidence that their companion was still with them. Their imaginations worked overtime but they saw nothing. Baker called up to the ship for supplies. They each watched the forest around them, looking for some sign that they were not alone.

Plant samples and equipment appeared and disappeared in brief flashes of light accompanied by the high-pitched whine of the ship's transporter. They used the newly materializing equipment to transform the empty clearing into an encampment, erecting a shelter with beds and chairs upon which they could recline. Spock's newly replaced tricorder told them the creature remained hidden high in the dense foliage of the trees undoubtedly watching them. Kirk hoped that as it continued to watch, it would find them less and less threatening, and more and more appealing. He imagined it ached to get closer, to look at their skin and faces. To see how they smelled, to see how they felt. But there was risk. They were unknown.

As the hours passed, the last of the natural light faded to darkness. No moons were visible in this planet's sky tonight, just stars peeking through the trees. The men listened to the odd screeches, clicks and hoots of the indigenous life, wondering if any belonged to the creature following them. Cell lanterns held the darkness at bay making a small circle of light around them.

Captain Kirk assigned first watch to Lt. Hernandez. The other three bedded down. Hernandez paced for awhile then stood beside a folding seat which he knew would groan audibly at the strain of supporting his formidable size.

"They ought to make these things bigger," he grumbled to himself, and remained standing.

He concentrated on trying to see past the light into the dark shadows beyond. Every crackle and rustle in the undergrowth made him start. They had no evidence that this creature was dangerous, but the way it had followed them so invisibly through the trees and deftly ripped off Mr. Spock's tricorder definitely made him nervous. He envisioned some long armed apelike creature, despite that intriguingly human-like laugh.

A slightly darker shadow wavered at the edge of the light catching his attention. Armed with a phaser in one hand and a handlight in the other, he cautiously approached. He crouched for a long while at the circle's edge listening quietly, sweeping the area with the light and peering into the trees. Nothing there - just his imagination again. Finally, he sighed and turned away. Suddenly something simultaneously grabbed his wrist, clamped over his mouth and jerked him backwards, feet flying. He struggled desperately to yell a warning but a sharp pain in the back of his neck stopped all resistance.

Kirk felt something silky brush across his cheek making him stir. A lovely fragrance filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. His eyes flickered open. Someone was leaning over him just inches from his face. He instinctively reached out but grabbed only air. The intruder escaped out the door giving him just the briefest glimpse of a female form with long flying hair silhouetted against the camp lights outside. He was immediately on his feet racing out the door, but there was no sign of her. Hernandez sat slumped in his chair, obviously asleep.

"Damn it!" Kirk swore softly. Spock and Baker poked their heads out. He went to Hernandez and shook him roughly, "Wake up!" Hernandez blinked in hazy confusion rubbing a sore spot on the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Sir. I... I don't know what happened." Kirk glared at him as the other men gathered round.

"She was here!" he told them.

"She, Captain?" Spock inquired.

"Yes, she, a human female." He stared into the forest in frustration. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"Sir?" Hernandez looked alarmed and jumped to his feet towering over his captain by several inches.

Kirk grabbed the security officer's handlight and headed to edge of the clearing. "Stay here!" he ordered and disappeared into the trees. The remaining three could see glimpses of his light for a few moments then nothing but the dark. Spock flipped open his communicator.

"Captain, are you all right?"

"Yes, Spock," Kirk responded. "I haven't encountered her yet. She's obviously skittish. Even these communicators may scare her. Maintain silence. Kirk out."

He found a semi-comfortable tree trunk to lean against, and waited. What had seemed like quiet slowly took on a living quality. Sounds of buzzing insects, and distant animal calls he hadn't noticed before grew to fill the hot night. Leaves rustled above him in the breeze. Or was it a breeze? He felt no stir of air on his face. Was she here? He stared into the pitch black forest, seeing nothing. He might as well have been blind. Someone was here. He could feel it. He wondered how she could navigate these woods in such blackness. He fought the urge to switch on his handlight. As the seconds ticked by, his heart pounded ever more loudly in his ears. He could bear the waiting no longer. Very softly he said, "Hello?" No answer but the feeling of another presence remained strong. He waited and made no further sound. Then he felt a slight tug on the light in his hand. It took all his discipline to remain motionless and merely tighten his grip. The tugging stopped. He felt a touch on his hand, fingers moving across his own, as if counting them one by one. The hand slipped upward fingering the fabric of his sleeve, moved slowly up his arm then across his chest and stomach. The hand found the bottom of his shirt and slipped underneath against his bare skin, making him catch his breath.

His pulse raced but still he held himself in check, silent and unmoving. Even this close, he could see only a featureless darkness before him. He began to panic just a little. He had believed she was human, but what if he were wrong? Just as he was considering a hasty retreat, that same sweet fragrance enveloped him and instead of scrambling away, he found himself reaching out. His hand found her face, smooth and soft. His thumb found her mouth. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her. He dropped his handlight seeking to embrace her when his communicator at his waist beeped loudly. The noise startled them both and she leaped away into the night.

"Wait!" he yelled frantically, but his arms found only open air. He swept the ground before him until his hand landed on his light. He flicked it on. Only the forest jumped into focus. He grabbed the beeping communicator.

"I told you not to call me!" he snapped.

"Apologies, Captain," responded Mr. Spock evenly, "We were concerned. I take it you are unharmed."

"Yes, I'm fine. She was here, but the communicator frightened her away again." The angry disappointment was clear in his voice. Spock wouldn't be calling again for some time, he was certain. He sat back down in the dark hoping she would return. After nearly an hour passed he gave up and made his way back to the others.

At first light, Kirk requested that his chief medical officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy join the landing party. When McCoy materialized, he looked mildly annoyed.

"I'm not a fan of camping," he said. Kirk smiled patiently at his old friend.

"I'm hoping we won't be here much longer, Bones. When I encountered our mysterious female last night, she seemed human enough but there was definitely something unusual about her. When she finally decides to come out of hiding, I want you to check her out."

"It's pretty unusual she'd be here at all," McCoy commented with his southern drawl. "So what did she look like?"

"I don't know. It was too dark to see."

"Then what's so danged unusual about her?"

"It's the way she smells and um...," Kirk smiled a little sheepishly, "tastes."

McCoy looked surprised but contained himself, barely. "Good or bad?" he asked.

"Good," Kirk answered, "Too good, in fact."

McCoy shook his head then dropped heavily into one of the chairs in front of the temporary shelter. "So what do we do now-just sit around and wait for our mystery lady to appear?"

"That's the plan." Kirk grinned and sat next to him.

McCoy stared at Kirk's face for a moment. "Well, at least you're smiling again. You've been awfully morose of late."

Kirk grunted and his smile disappeared. "I have every right to be. It's nearly the end of our 5 year mission. And to top it off, these last few months have been dull, dull, dull. I was hoping for a little more excitement before I accept that Admiralty position at Starfleet Command. I know I'm making a good career move, but giving up the _Enterprise_..." He sighed heavily.

"So is that why you've been jumping on every away mission, even routine botany samplings?" McCoy needled him.

Kirk laughed a little, "Well this one's turning out to be not so routine."

"So it would seem," McCoy acknowledged. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry too much about being bored back at Starfleet, Jim. Something interesting will turn up for you... it always does."

When Spock and the other two men completed transporting the botanical samples to the Enterprise, they joined Kirk and McCoy to sit and wait. The five men in the clearing engaged in small talk to pass the time as they watched the forest. Hours went by and nothing happened, but they continued to wait. Spock's tricorder and the ship's sensors confirmed that their visitor was still nearby, at times approaching fairly close, then scooting back into the depths.

They again debated the possibility of locking onto her with a transporter. Spock reminded them that the prime directive dictated they should leave her undisturbed if she wished it. McCoy argued that the directive applied to viable civilizations and cultures, not to apparently stranded individuals. As the two men continued their debate, growing more adamant in their views they failed to notice that the subject of their discussion was now standing in the clearing.

"Sir!" Lt. Hernandez called. The others turned in the direction of his stare.

There, not ten feet away, stood the most incredible-looking woman any of them had ever seen. In all important aspects she appeared human - two legs, two arms, one head, one neck, one torso. All the right equipment was there in the correct number and order but it was the combination of similarities and differences that stunned them.

Translucent golden-colored skin covered a smoothly muscled body with ample breasts, a slender waist and full hips. Thick long hair hanging almost to her waist shimmered in seemingly impossible iridescent tones of golds, blues, and reds. Most disconcerting of all were her eyes - bright emerald green with the vertical-slit pupils of a cat. She wore no clothing or decoration other than a slender gold band encircling her upper right arm. The men stood in frozen silence drinking in the sight of her. She stood equally still returning their stares.

Spock was the first to break the spell. "Greetings," he said formally. She stared back blankly, obviously not understanding. McCoy looked at Spock scornfully. "Did you expect her to speak English?" He pulled out the universal translator, and spoke to her again but her blank expression did not change. Spock raised his eyebrow at the doctor in apparent disdain. Chagrined, McCoy turned to the Captain. "Now what?"

Kirk glanced at the others then took a tentative step towards her. She mirrored his movement taking one step back. He paused to turn his hands upwards trying to look non-threatening then took another step. This time she held her ground. He looked back at his men with a small smile. He took another step and she backed up further than any progress he had made towards her. He sighed and dropped his hands.

"Any suggestions, Gentlemen?" he asked.

McCoy answered, "I'd suggest that we go back to our conversation and pretend to ignore her."

Kirk nodded and returned to the group. "Let's do as the good doctor suggests. Everyone just sit back down, go back to our business and act as if we don't even notice her."

They sat in a circle and kept their voices low as Dr. McCoy furtively scanned her with his medical tricorder. "It's a bit difficult to get detailed readings from this distance, Jim, but she is humanoid. Some unusual organ placement, but good old-fashioned iron-based blood." He glanced over at Spock, "Unlike some." McCoy noticed she was no longer standing where he had last seen her. He looked up over his shoulder to find her peering at the medical tricorder in his hands.

"Keep your places, everyone," Kirk ordered quietly as she surveyed them. Her gaze rested on Mr. Spock and she stepped around the circle until she stood behind him. He tensed slightly and Kirk whispered, "Don't move, Spock." She reached forward and ran a finger along his cheek up to the top of a pointed ear. He looked slightly annoyed. McCoy couldn't help but chuckle and automatically smiled at her. She mimicked him.

"We seem to be making progress," Kirk commented softly. "Keep it up, Bones."

But then she focused on Kirk and moved around the circle to stand near him. Very slowly, making no sudden movement she might deem a threat, he rose from his chair to face her. He was pleased to see that she held her ground. Kirk touched his chest, "My name is Kirk, Captain Kirk." She watched his lips move, studying him. She raised a hand and placed her thumb on his mouth much as he had done to her in the darkness. He held still.

Then to his surprise, she pressed her mouth against his. When she completed her greeting and pulled back, the others had all risen to their feet. She approached each one and performed the same ritual. They all smiled except for Spock who bore an expression of surprised annoyance.

"Well, well, well," McCoy's grin was wider than ever. "She seems awfully friendly now. I suppose we have you to thank for that warm welcome, Captain?"

"I guess she thinks it's how we say 'hello'," Kirk answered with some embarrassment.

"Well, I hope you won't disabuse her of it. I, for one, think it most charming. But I see now what you meant by unusual...," McCoy commented touching his lips, "However, I don't think that it presents any danger."

Kirk noted that the sky was beginning to grow dark again. "Let's pack up," Kirk ordered, "We'll see what she does."

She watched the men as they went about the work of taking down the temporary shelter, collapsing the chairs and bedding. She tried to help by carrying small items to them that they took and packed away all the while smiling at her. The more they smiled the more she did. Soon everything was gathered in one spot. The men had been observing her carefully while they worked and concluded that she seemed tame enough, even eager to please. By the time they were finished they had agreed that she should be brought aboard for further observation and analysis. After all, their prime duty was to investigate new life forms and she definitely qualified. Besides, they could hardly justify leaving her here alone.

Kirk issued the order to transport the equipment aboard. She watched with surprised curiosity as it disappeared in the beams of light.

"Let her see some of us beam up first," Kirk said, "Hernandez and Baker, you go ahead. We'll follow with her."

She watched the two men disappear as had the equipment. Kirk gestured for her to join the remaining three of them. She hesitated then started to back away.

"Transport Hernandez and Baker back immediately," Kirk ordered and the two reappeared exactly as they had left. He patted them on the shoulder to show they were unharmed. "See? It doesn't hurt a bit," he told her. "All right, beam them back up again." Again they were gone. Kirk beckoned to her once more, "Come on."

The words probably meant nothing to her, but his outstretched hand spoke volumes. She took hold and he pulled her beside him. He squeezed her hand as the beams took them.

When she materialized in the transporter room, the strangeness of it overwhelmed her and she sagged against him. He caught her in his arms and tried to reassure her. McCoy handed him a cloak and he wrapped it around her nakedness.

"Seems a downright shame, doesn't it?" McCoy observed dryly.

"Well, we don't want to start a riot," Kirk replied, "Let's get her to sickbay, Bones, and see if you can figure out what she is and how we can communicate with her."

"I would like to examine the armband she is wearing," Spock said. "An analysis may provide clues to her origin."

After a moment's hesitation, she allowed Spock to remove the band. As McCoy and Kirk guided her through the corridors to sickbay, she stared at the many people they passed, who returned her stares with equal curiosity. Kirk thought that no doubt she was wondering if she should have trusted them so quickly. There was no helping it now, she was obviously out of her element. They took her into sickbay. McCoy gestured that she should lie down on one of them. With some encouragement on Kirk's part, she complied.

McCoy gathered and adjusted his equipment in preparation for running the various tests required for a full physical analysis. He saw her watching him with wide eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling.

"Poor girl," he commented to Kirk. "She's scared to death."

Kirk took her by the hand again and stroked her forehead gently. It seemed to calm her a little. He noticed McCoy smiling in amusement at him. Then the doctor scowled slightly at his medical scanner while running it across her other hand.

"Something interesting, Bones?"

"You could say that," he answered and picked up her forefinger squeezing it gently. From beneath the nail, a crystal clear claw appeared - an inch long and razor sharp. Kirk looked uncomfortably at the hand which held his. When Nurse Chapel arrived, he tried to let go but she gripped him tighter.

"Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel will take good care of you," he said to her, pointing at them to make himself understood. She sniffed at Nurse Chapel and glared at her suspiciously. He gently but firmly extricated his hand and headed toward the door. "Let me know when you're done, Bones."

Several hours later, Kirk met with Spock and McCoy in their capacities as his head science and medical officers. Dr. McCoy reported his findings first.

"I've analyzed her DNA. The majority of it is human but combined with traces of a number of other species I can't even begin to identify."

"Fascinating. I take it is unlikely that such a combination could occur naturally, Doctor." Spock said.

"Danged near impossible in my opinion. It's got to be some form of genetic engineering, but on an incredibly sophisticated level."

"So you think we're dealing with a unique life form, not a previously unidentified humanoid race?" Kirk asked.

"That would be my guess," McCoy nodded in agreement.

"Go on, Bones," Kirk requested.

"She's younger than she looks. Maybe 15 or 16 years of age. Each of her fingers and toes is equipped with a cat-like claw. She has two sets of lungs. One appears dormant and no, I haven't figured out why that is yet. Basic skeletal and muscular structure are the same as ours but far denser and more elastic. She has two completely separate nervous systems, one like ours, one not - don't ask me what that other one does, I have no idea. She's hairless. What looks like hair on her head isn't, it's living tissue. Each strand is an un-pigmented tube filled with live cells so all those lovely colors we see are light refraction. Her hearing range goes well above and below our own. She can see further and more clearly than we can even in very low light."

"That explains how easily she negotiated those woods in the dark," Kirk commented.

McCoy paused at the interruption. "As I was saying… agility, reflexes, muscle strength, endurance, cell regeneration - all completely off the human scale. Whoever engineered her, did one hell of a job."

"Fascinating," Spock observed again, that single eyebrow popping up.

"And what about that other unusual characteristic of hers?" Kirk asked.

"Pure pheromones," McCoy answered, "Very effective ones."

"I see," Kirk exhaled audibly, "So what are we going to do with her?"

"Now there's a loaded question, if I ever heard one," McCoy said with a slow smile.

"Really, Doctor," Spock said disapprovingly. McCoy smiled wider, obviously enjoying himself.

"Did you learn anything from that armband, Mr. Spock?" Kirk tried to get them back on track.

"Indeed, Captain. The material itself tells us little as it is merely a common gold alloy. However, I did make a most interesting discovery. The band is completely covered with microscopic engraving. The same message is inscribed repeatedly over its surface in every known language, as well as in thousands of others of which our computer has no record. I believe that the study of these language samples shall be particularly illuminating."

When Spock fell silent, McCoy demanded irritably, "So what does it say, Spock?"

"It says, 'My name is Shea."

"A name tag?" Kirk laughed. "I take it there was no address?"

"No, sir," Spock answered seriously.

"Shea," Kirk repeated the name getting a feel for it. "So why doesn't Shea talk? I haven't heard her make any attempt at speech."

McCoy had an answer, "If she ever knew how, she lost it when her memories were erased."

"Erased?" Kirk asked in surprise.

"According to her brain scan she only has about two days of long term memory. I suspect someone or something must have wiped her mind clean and dumped her here just about the same time we arrived."

"That explains why our earlier scans didn't register her," Kirk said. "But that raises an even more troubling question. How did someone slip her down there without our detection. We have no indications of another vessel in the area."

"Cloaked perhaps?" Spock speculated.

"Perhaps," Kirk replied unconvinced. "She has no earlier memory whatsoever?"

"None. She'll have to be completely re-educated, but I'm guessing she'll pick things up pretty fast," McCoy said. "She seems to have a knack for learning."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"Well, once she got over her initial fright, she started getting into things." McCoy looked amused. "It was like dealing with a precocious 2-year old-grabbing anything in reach. I turned my back for a minute and she took my bionoscope completely apart."

"Breaking equipment hardly seems indicative of remarkable intelligence," Spock said.

"She didn't break it, she disassembled it. Then she put it back together and it worked! I figured she'd be taking the ship apart next so I locked her up in an empty bio-med room. Nurse Chapel is keeping an eye on her."

"So we have a very bright genetically engineered humanoid female. But if someone went to so much trouble, why would they wipe her memories and abandon her?" Kirk asked, seeking theories.

"Maybe they weren't happy with the results," McCoy suggested, "though that's hard to believe."

"Or possibly her abandonment is simply another part of an experiment with which we are either interfering or participating," Spock countered.

"That's an unsettling thought," Kirk replied. "Lots of questions and few answers, gentlemen. One thing I do know is that we're talking about a young woman here, not a lab rat. If this is all part of someone's experiment, then I think it's time it ended."

Ensign Chandler's voice on the ship's intercom interrupted them. "Captain, I'm in the recreation lounge," he said urgently, "I think you better hear this."

Over the intercom came the sound of a sweetly complicated but unfamiliar piece of music.

"Very impressive, Ensign, but this is hardly the time…," Kirk admonished.

"Sir, you don't understand," Chandler insisted, "It's that woman you brought up from the planet."

"What?" Kirk was on his feet, "How did she get there?"

"I don't know, sir," Chandler replied, "I was just sitting here practicing some music when she came in. She listened for a moment then practically threw me off the keyboard and started playing it herself. I've never heard anything like it."

"Are you in danger, Ensign?" Spock demanded.

"No, sir, I don't think so" he replied, "She just wanted to get to the keyboard."

"We'll be right there," Kirk told him and headed out the door. McCoy and Spock were close behind. He turned to Dr. McCoy, "I thought you said she was locked up."

"She was," McCoy answered hotly, "Chapel is supposed to be watching her."

Kirk hailed Nurse Chapel and inquired about her charge. She reported that the girl was safely locked away and that she had kept her eye on the door the entire time.

"I think you'd better go take a look," Kirk advised her. There was a brief pause then she breathlessly came back on the intercom.

"Captain, she's gone and the airduct cover is open. I'm sorry, sir, it never occurred to me that-"

"It's all right, Nurse. It didn't occur to any of us either.**"**

Kirk grumbled to his two senior officers. "It looks like our guest is a going to be a handful."

"Well I did hear you say you were hoping for a little more excitement around here," McCoy chuckled.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

102 years later...

Earthdate: 2371

Stardate: 47895.3

Captain Jean-Luc Picard hid his growing impatience well. He stared past the reflection of his prominent Gallic features in the glass before him, watching the Earth's surface below skim past the viewing portals of the speeding shuttle. It couldn't speed fast enough in his current state of mind. He was eager to arrive at his destination, Starfleet Command Headquarters in San Francisco, where at last he would formally receive orders to assume command of a new starship.

Following the destruction of the _Enterprise 1701-D, _he had spent almost a month in debriefing. Though couched in endless variations, all the questions asked by the investigation committee focused on the same point. Whose error in judgment had resulted in his ship crash landing on Viridian III? They were determined to lay blame on someone.

"Why did you voluntarily leave the ship knowing a hostile Klingon vessel was in the area? Did you really think offering a yourself up as a hostage was a good idea? Why didn't you send a security team down to the surface instead of yourself? How did the Klingons learn the _Enterprise's_ shield modulation frequency?"

He had solid reasons for each of his decisions and he offered them up one by one, but it rankled him that the they seemed more concerned that the Enterprise had been destroyed than impressed by the fact that he and the majority of his crew had not only survived the attack, but successfully prevented a madman from exploding the sun of a populated planet. As the committee members had continued to dig away at him, trying to find some chink in the armor of his command, Picard had not hidden his irritation. In retrospect, he supposed his attitude had done little to further his plea for a new ship. After the inquiry, he had been informed that a new command would not be available for at least two years. "It's not like starships grow on trees, Picard," Admiral Conners had admonished him. Yet here it was not six months later that he was being assigned a new vessel. Apparently something had changed.

Since the destruction of the _Enterprise, _he'd spent his time divided between desk duty at Starfleet Command and attending to personal matters at his family estate in the South of France. In the latter, his role was to offer support and comfort to his bereaved sister-in-law over the loss of his brother, Robert, and nephew, Andre, both of whom had recently died in a fire. Within a few short days of each other, Picard had lost his only living relatives along with his ship. He was still coming to terms with the magnitude of it all.

Though the Enterprise was lost, he was thankful that crew casualties were light. The majority of his crew remained intact and were already manning this new ship. Unfortunately, his family disaster left little to be thankful for. His recent experience in the Nexus had softened the immediate pain, and during the return to Earth, he had even waxed philosophical about it all, but the reality of the loss returned with sharp cold clarity upon seeing the grief-stricken face of his brother's widow. While it was true that he and his brother had never been particularly close, there had always been a strong bond of loyalty. He had to admit he would miss his brother's gruff pompous ways. As for his nephew - there were no words to express the heartache that came with his death. Andre had been such a bright adventurous boy, so full of promise. Besides the emotional pain, there was the family estate to deal with. The Picard Winery had been owned and operated by his family for generations. For now, his sister-in-law would continue to live there and manage it, but then what? There were no heirs now.

His eyes focused on his own reflection taking note of the lines of age around his hazel-grey eyes and the narrow silvered fringe that was all that remained as a souvenir of what once was a full head of dark hair. He cared little as to the effects of time on his personal appearance but it reminded him that the chances of adding to the family line had undoubtedly passed. He had long ago sacrificed that dream in exchange for the career of a Starfleet captain. He'd had few regrets until now - now that he was the last of the Picards.

He tore his thoughts away to focus on the view beyond. Just ahead lay the San Francisco Bridge, it's red beams spanning the dark blue waters of the bay. The bridge had been nostalgically preserved as a tourist attraction, now frequented only by foot traffic, and antique trolley cars for those who found the walk intimidating. Dramatically edged alongside the bay were the geometrically arranged buildings of Starfleet Headquarters and Starfleet Academy separated by vast meticulously landscaped gardens.

"We're here, sir," the pilot announced as he made his approach to land. Picard's eager anticipation returned in full force. Once the shuttle landed and the outer door opened, he exited as quickly as decorum would permit. The air felt cool and damp, typical of a San Francisco spring day. Not so typical was the bright sunlight of an unusually clear sky. A voice called to him, and he turned to find Admiral Sherman Conners approaching.

Conners was a burly man about the same age as Picard. The man's dark eyes peered out below a pair of shaggy brows that matched his thick salt-and-pepper beard. Picard assumed the beard was a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of hair on his head, probably the only trait they still shared in common. Although the two men had graduated from the same class at the Academy, Conners had concentrated on promoting his political career while avoiding shipboard duty as much as possible. Picard supposed there was a necessity for men of that ilk in Starfleet, but he couldn't identify with them.

Conners welcomed him enthusiastically, smiling and pumping his hand, adding a slap on the arm for good measure.

"Jean-Luc! It's good to see you again. How are you? Looking forward to getting your hands on that new ship, I suppose?"

"Quite so." Picard smiled back, wishing he could extricate his hand. "I'm not cut out for desk duty I'm afraid."

"I know, I know. Maybe now you'll stop complaining about the making out all those _boring_ reports as you call them. Though you still have reports even on a starship."

"True, but they're usually a little more interesting."

"But no more necessary," Conners countered and finally released Picard's hand. He took a deep breath and smiled again. "At any rate, you're very lucky to be getting a ship so soon, especially considering what happened to your old one. Very lucky."

Picard was beginning to feel offended. "I was cleared of any wrongdoing. I hardly think command is a matter of luck, Admiral."

"No. No, of course not," Conners smiled again, "At least not usually. We're all just a little surprised about how this all came about. You see, the captain's chair was initially offered to Commander Shea."

"Oh?" Picard said in surprise. "Have I inadvertently made an enemy?"

"No, as a matter of fact, Shea volunteered to step down in return for being assigned to you."

"That's surprisingly generous."

"Yes, isn't it?" Conners didn't look the least pleased, even though he still had a smile pasted on his face.

"I don't recognize the name," Picard said. "I thought I knew all the ranking officers qualified for command."

"Shea's active service in the fleet only lasted two years and was well before your time."

"Just two years, and before my time? Why would you consider giving such a person command of a Federation flagship?"

"Very special circumstances, Captain. Believe me, our confidence is well warranted." The Admiral took on a serious expression. "We've given a great deal of thought to this assignment, Jean-Luc. We admit there may be problems. Shea can be... difficult."

Picard felt only puzzlement. This made little sense. "Shea? What's this person's full name?"

"That is her full name - first, last and only. You should remember her from your history lessons. Think back... about hundred years or so?" Conners waited for it to sink in.

Picard stared feeling his jaw dropping slightly as he began to comprehend what the Admiral was telling him.

"Before you start spouting off, know that the potential benefits to the Federation far outweigh the risks. I'm sure when you meet her- "

"Are you telling me that this is the genetically engineered woman found by Captain James T. Kirk back in...in..."

"2269, yes," Conners replied. Seeing Picard's shock, he quickly continued, "We have every confidence that you and your crew can handle the situation. Frankly, I thought she'd do better as Captain but she's chosen to take a subordinate position."

"You cannot be serious. She's over a hundred years old."

"Trust me. She doesn't look it. Which is why we strongly suggest you instigate a non-fraternization rule."

"Non-fraternization?" Picard was completely taken aback. "What the devil are you talking about?"

Conners continued, ignoring Picard's obvious alarm. "You must tell her that her required celibacy on board is your decision, not Starfleet Command's. I believe she'll accept it coming from you - although she may try to convince you otherwise. I can't over-emphasize how important it is that you remain unconvinced."

"You're making her take a celibacy oath?"

"No, you are. But only in regard to the crew. Just give her periodic shore leave. About every two or three weeks should keep her on an even keel. Your chief medical officer is being briefed on her physiology."

Picard frowned at him. "And if there were occasion when we could not accommodate that kind of schedule."

"I strongly suggest you make every effort, Captain." Admiral Conners raised his eyebrows slightly. "You may not like what develops if you don't."

"But you're tying me to a ridiculous shore leave schedule, all for the benefit of one crewmember. It's preposterous."

"And absolutely vital, if this is going to work. Starfleet is placing a great deal of trust in you, Picard. We need Shea on this ship. The question is, will you accept command or do we need to find someone else?"

Picard knew blackmail when he heard it. He would have to take on this ship with its crippling schedule or no ship at all.

"I accept command," he said, though it pained him.

"Good. Then let's go meet your new officer."

"After you, Admiral."

Conners took the lead. Walking through the formal manicured gardens, Picard remembered spending many hours here reflecting in solitude during stressful moments at the Academy. At those times, he had always looked forward to discussions with Boothby, the gardener. Too bad there was no time for soul searching now. He was on his way to meet a woman of legend, a woman whose reputation was anything but reassuring. Yet Starfleet was bending over backwards to accommodate her. In other circumstances he would have been filled with curiosity, but under these he felt only misgiving.

Admiral Conners glanced back and pointed toward a lithe female figure seated on the bench ahead. Even at this distance, Picard could see that she was still in her physical prime. As they approached, he noticed her most striking feature - her hair, hanging in full glossy waves over her chest and down to the middle of her back. Having no pigment of its own, it caught the ambient light, refracting and reflecting it back. In this strong sunlight, it appeared a deep burnished copper flecked with rainbow hues. She rose to meet them. She was very nearly his height and met his gaze evenly. Under the scrutinizing stare of her emerald green eyes with their catlike vertical pupils, he almost felt unnerved.

Admiral Conners introduced him and Picard extended his hand in greeting. She took it firmly in her own. Her hand was deceptively delicate belying the reputation of inordinate physical strength. She smiled, her full red lips parting to reveal a row of even white teeth. The feeling he experienced was uncomfortably similar to being appraised by a hungry predator.

Despite the passage of time, even at close range, there was nothing aged about her. Her skin was clear and smooth, and the full lusciousness of youth still lay upon her body which even in his wariness, Picard could appreciate as being perfectly proportioned under her snug non-regulation jumpsuit.

"Warm today, isn't it?" commented the Admiral, who wiped a hand across his forehead.

Feeling quite comfortable with the ambient temperature, Picard doubted the sheen of perspiration on the Admiral's face had anything to do with the weather.

"Let's talk inside then," she said. She led them out of the gardens to the nearest building where a pair of tall glass doors automatically swooshed apart at their approach. They followed her into a small conference room, where she plopped down in the chair at the head of an oval conference table. She leaned her right elbow on the edge of the chair arm and smiled as if enjoying some secret joke. Picard felt her steady gaze upon him as he and Conners took adjacent seats to her left.

Picard didn't care a bit for her casual, almost insolent pose. The silence grew as he sat there under her amused unblinking stare, but he refused to speak first. After what seemed an eternity though in truth were mere seconds, her eyes moved away and she looked expectantly at Admiral Conners who quickly cleared his throat and began.

"I was just explaining to Captain Picard that you have been assigned as his second in command." Turning to Picard, Conners continued, "Commander Shea is capable of serving at any of the duty stations on the bridge, or in engineering. She is also a good choice for training security personnel. Her specific duties will, of course, be left to your discretion."

Picard looked from Conners to Shea. "Forgive me, but I already have a second-in-command. Commander Riker. Perhaps Commander Shea would consider another position, one more suited to someone with a mere two years of active duty."

Conners face flushed. "I believe I already explained the situation, Captain. Commander Shea is—"

"It's all right, Sherman. My title doesn't matter." She waved her hand at him dismissively and turned her full attention on Picard. "I'm sure you will find the position I am most suited for quickly enough. I assure you, Captain, no matter what you ask of me, you will not be disappointed."

The look in her eyes and her low sultry voice came across far too familiar for Picard's taste. Everything about her seemed sexually charged and focused directly at him. He felt his anger rising. "I don't care for your tone, Commander. I operate a tight ship-the best in the fleet." He spoke sharply so that there would be no doubt as to who was in charge, "I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately in accordance with Starfleet regulations at all times. I may have to accept your presence on board, but before you become an official member of my crew, you will prove yourself worthy of the honor." Her posture straightened as he spoke. He turned to Admiral Conners. "Do you have any further instructions for Commander Shea?"

Conners looked back at him in mild surprise, "Um, no, not really."

"Good." Picard wanted her out of the room. "Commander, report for duty at 0800 hours. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," she replied simply, but her eyes still twinkled in amusement. She rose slowly and headed toward the door glancing back at him for a moment before exiting. When the door clicked shut behind her, Picard exhaled.

"Does she always come on that strong?"

Conners smiled. "Only to men."

"Oh good, then I'll only need to worry about 60 percent of my crew."

Admiral Conners handed him a small envelope, "This is her complete Starfleet record to date. I think that -"

"Admiral, I'm not the least bit sure this is a good idea," Picard interrupted. "If the reality comes anything close to the rumors, I could have a devil of time keeping order."

"The non-fraternization restriction combined with your good example should keep things manageable," Conners replied, "It may help you to know that while she has no love for Starfleet authority per se, she does have a history of unwavering _personal_ loyalty."

Picard heard the emphasis on the word personal. "I hope you're not suggesting that she and I-."

"No, no, please don't misunderstand me. I'm only encouraging you to develop a solid professional relationship, not a romantic one. To be honest, her influence over a mate is so invasive that Starfleet might well have to question the command ability of anyone who allowed himself to be affected in that fashion."

"That sounds very much like a threat."

"Not at all. Starfleet has every confidence in you."

"Then why do I get the feeling that I'm being set up?"

Conners paused frowning at him then he leaned closer and spoke quietly. "Think of it more as good advice from one man to another. Keep clear of her, no matter what she throws at you. I wouldn't want to see your career jeopardized, Jean-Luc."

Picard scowled at him wondering what was really going on here. Since when had Sherman Conners been so concerned about his welfare?

"Admiral, from what little I know of her, I have absolutely no intention of forming anything other than a professional relationship. I just hope that she will conduct herself accordingly."

"Well, she did successfully serve aboard the Enterprise 1701 for over two years," Conners reminded him, "During that time her record was exceptional."

"Exceptionally controversial as I recall, especially as to how it ended," Picard commented.

"That incident had nothing to do with her... proclivities," Conners stated, "and up until then, no one had ever questioned her loyalty."

"Apparently, Starfleet has learned little from that previous error," Picard replied, "Even from this brief meeting, it is clear that she has no respect for authority."

Conners answered with a sigh, "I can't promise that she won't cause any problems, but these are dangerous times and we need her on our side. We simply can't afford to alienate her. Starfleet feels that Shea's abilities make her especially suited for military intelligence work," Conners dropped his voice slightly, "for Covert Operations."

"What?" Picard was incredulous, "I thought this was an exploratory mission. We have families aboard!"

"All the better as a cover, Captain. We've taken precautions to assure their safety. Whenever Shea is personally involved in a high risk mission, a dedicated warship will rendezvous with you to pick her up. While on board your vessel, she will carry out whatever duties are assigned to her just like any other member of the crew. She'll have to spend some time in planning and coordination, but we'll set up a direct subspace link with her that won't involve you or anyone else on board. It shouldn't interfere with your basic mission. Most of the time, you won't even be aware of what she's doing."

"I hardly find that comforting. Why put her on a ship at all then? She should be operating out of Headquarters."

"I agree, but she doesn't," Conners explained, "She insisted upon a field assignment, but turned down every ship we offered. She wanted the Enterprise, which, of course, was out of the question. But now she's popped up again and made us an offer: her services plus a new ship under your command. Don't ask me what motivates her because I really don't know. But if you want to thank someone for getting you a ship this fast, you can thank her."

Picard scowled at him in surprise. "Are you saying that this ship wasn't built by Starfleet? That it's actually her ship?"

"Yes. She's giving it to us."

"How could she possibly have a starship?"

"No idea. I only know if we had said no, she would have walked away, maybe to someone else."

Picard hardly knew what to say. "I certainly appreciate the command," he said finally, "but I still don't think her being assigned to a starship is appropriate."

"Picard, if we lose her and this ship, it will be because of your refusal to cooperate and it will not go unnoticed. I suggest you do your damnedest to make it work. Some very influential people in Starfleet have a lot riding on this and they don't want any excuses. So do you accept this command or don't you? "

"Of course I accept it!" Picard snapped back.

"Good. I'm glad," Conners answered sharply, not appearing glad about it at all. He struggled to suppress his irritation and continued, "She's been very well behaved since her arrival. Perhaps maturity has mellowed her a bit." Picard glared at him in silence. Conners gave up and concluded his remarks, "She has impressive abilities. I'm sure you will be able to work with her if you give it a reasonable effort."

"It appears I have no choice in the matter, but let the record show that her assignment is over my formal objection."

"So noted," Conners acknowledged.

"I assume you have my orders?" Picard asked.

Conners handed him the small digital orders placard. There was no smile anymore. "Congratulations, Captain."

"Thank-you," Picard stood. He knew he wore an equally sour expression, his previous elation tainted. "If there is nothing further, Admiral, I'll transport aboard."

"Very well," Admiral Conners also rose and shook Picard's hand perfunctorily. "Good luck."

Picard tapped his communicator and announced that he was ready to come aboard. Commander William Riker's acknowledgement came back immediately. When Picard materialized in the transporter room, Riker was there to meet him. The tall younger man looked rakishly handsome dressed in his formal military attire.

"The officers are waiting for you in the Recreation Room on Deck 5," Riker smiled, his dark blue eyes crinkling with pleasure, "It's a great ship, sir."

Picard nodded and smiled stiffly in return. Normally he would have looked forward to this traditional ceremony for the assumption of command, but now his mind was elsewhere. He and Riker headed for turbolift. Just as the door slid open, he heard footsteps behind him and caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Beverly Crusher was hurrying down the hallway towards them as Riker held the lift for her. Beverly knew better than to comment on what she had recently learned before the Captain initiated a discussion, so she simply nodded in greeting. Picard remained silent. He had little room in his thoughts for Beverly or anyone else at the moment.

Upon entering the expansive recreation room, Picard noted with some satisfaction that at least 200 personnel were waiting at attention dressed in formal attire. As soon as he appeared they piped him aboard in the traditional manner and he nodded in acknowledgment. He stepped to the podium and read the orders given to him by Admiral Conners awarding him command of Starfleet's newest flagship the Enterprise_ 1701-E _just recently renamed in honor of its ruined predecessor. The completion of the reading was met with a thunderous round of applause. Riker stepped next to him.

"We've planned a reception for you in the forward lounge. It's on Deck 9 but everyone's still calling it Ten-Forward. I guess it's hard to break old habits." Riker smiled.

"Thank you, Number One, but something unexpected has come up. Assemble the Senior Staff in the Observation Lounge. I'll make a brief appearance at the reception and join you in a moment."

When Picard arrived in the Observation Lounge located off the main bridge, all of his senior staff members were present. Commander Riker stood behind a chair to the right of the Captain's. The beautiful half-betazoid psychiatric counselor Deanna Troi was seated quietly appraising the mood of those present. Lt. Commander Data, his android science officer in charge of operations, sat ramrod straight as always. Lt. Commander Worf's hulking presence looked wary as usual. Commander Geordi La Forge from engineering was just finding his seat. Doctor Crusher just kept staring at the display on the info tablet in her hands. Piccard signaled Riker to sit and took his chair at the head of the table. Captain Picard looked at them all and smiled warmly.

"It's an honor to be serving with you again," he said. "We are very fortunate that Starfleet has chosen to keep this crew intact and to give us this ship. The prospect of waiting another year or more was not appealing. Chances are there would have been a number of personnel changes by then." He turned to Commander Riker, "So how do you find her, Number One?"

"Impressive, Sir. I think you'll be very pleased. She handles much like the _Enterprise D_ but with a few choice upgrades I'm sure you'll appreciate."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to a complete tour later." He paused for a moment and his smile faded. "We have an unexpected situation of which I was not previously aware. It involves the assignment of a new senior staff member."

They waited expectantly for the Captain to continue. He looked around at their faces wondering how best to prepare them for this bizarre development. Riker sensed the Captain's hesitation.

"I take it there's something unusual about this person," he prompted.

"Yes, there certainly is," Picard took a deep breath and decided the best way was also the most direct, "Our new Commander is none other than Shea, the same woman brought into Starfleet by Captain James T. Kirk. Some of you may recall her from your history lessons at the Academy."

He paused a moment to see the effect of what he had said. Their wide-eyed expressions told him that they remembered their lessons. He couldn't see Geordi's eyes through his VISOR, of course, but Geordi's little exhaled whistle confirmed he was on the same page as they.

"Isn't she a little old to be serving aboard a starship?" Riker asked.

"She looks younger than you, Number One, and appears to be quite fit," Picard replied. "If she has any problems serving aboard this ship, it won't be due to old age. However, there will be other difficulties." He paused again for a moment. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not pleased about this and am uncertain as to the wisdom of this assignment. Unfortunately, Starfleet Command has chosen to disregard my objections. They feel that her talents will be especially useful in high risk operations and are therefore willing to overlook the problems she has demonstrated in interacting with humans in the past. We, however, do not have that luxury. As my senior officers, it is vital that you be fully apprised of the nature of those problems. My understanding is that they are a direct result of Shea's physical..." he searched for the right word, "idiosyncrasies. Doctor, would you please elaborate."

"Commander Shea is definitely unusual." Doctor Crusher gave a little lopsided smile. "While she appears basically human, there are some distinct differences. Her hair is not truly hair but living sensors which give her additional information about her environment. Her body has incredible powers of recuperation involving spontaneous tissue regeneration. Hearing and sight are more acute... she can see clearly in near darkness and her hearing extends to frequencies beyond human range. She has a number of characteristics which are distinctly feline - her eyes have vertical-slit pupils, she is equipped with retractable claws, and her agility and reflexes are all decidedly catlike. Her physical strength and endurance levels are completely disproportionate to her body size. She eats the same foods we do, but most of her needs are met by epidural absorption of thermal electromagnetic radiation emitted by light sources and living creatures such as ourselves."

"Her skin sucks in energy from us?" Riker asked. "Sounds like a vampire."

"She doesn't take anything more than what we naturally produce," she assured him. "She also ingests fluids, mainly water..." At this point, Dr. Crusher hesitated looking embarrassed which was unusual considering her profession.

"Please continue, Doctor," Captain Picard urged.

"The other fluids that Shea apparently requires..." she tried to put this delicately, "result from intimate contact with male humanoids."

There was just the briefest moment of silence.

"You're kidding," Commander Riker laughed.

"I believe the doctor is quite serious," Data interjected. "The medical reports of Doctor McCoy aboard the _Enterprise 1701_ would tend to support that hypothesis. In fact it was this very trait that caused most of her difficulties with human interaction."

"Are you saying that she actually can't survive without sex?" Riker asked incredulously.

"Not exactly, Commander," Data continued, "My understanding is that while she can survive, she does not thrive without it and becomes increasingly more irritable with continued abstinence."

"Don't we all?" Riker smirked.

Deanna and Geordi struggled to keep serious expressions on their faces.

"Perhaps so," Dr. Crusher entered back into the discussion, "but in her case, irritability can be dangerous."

Commander Riker wasn't phased in the least. He stroked his dark glossy beard smiling slowly. "Sir, if you need a volunteer..."

"Thank you, Commander, that won't be necessary," Captain Picard looked annoyed.

"Are we to understand you're taking care of this personally, Captain?" Riker asked smiling wider.

"No, you are not!" snapped Picard, annoyed and not smiling. "While on board this ship, Commander Shea shall be subject to a non-fraternization rule. Any requirements she has for male companionship shall be met during shore leave with persons who are not affiliated with this ship. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," responded Riker, the smile now gone. Each of the male staff nodded their acknowledgment as Picard's eyes swept over them. Picard turned to his android officer, "Data, you seem particularly familiar with Commander Shea's background."

"I have read the E_nterprise_ logs for that time period as well as Captain Kirk's memoirs and Dr. McCoy's medical evaluations. I have also read what might be called an unauthorized biography written after her disappearance."

"Why the interest, Data?" Riker asked.

"She is a unique life-form who like myself had to adapt to human society as an adult. It seemed relevant to my experience. It was fascinating reading. At the time, I considered the possibility that much of it was based more on male sexual fantasy than reality. It will be interesting to discuss this with her."

"No doubt," the Captain said dryly. "Data, considering your obvious expertise on this subject as well as your ability to remain emotionally detached, I may rely heavily upon your assistance in interacting with her." On further thought, he added, "I trust that you have truly mastered control of your newly acquired emotion chip, Mr. Data."

"Yes sir," Data replied, "The problems I previously encountered are no longer an issue. I have the ability to turn the chip off and on at will."

"Would that we all could do that," Picard commented. He next addressed his ship's counselor, "I will also be relying on your empathic abilities to assess any ill effect on this crew." Deanna nodded in response. Picard turned to his head of security, Commander Worf, the first and only Klingon member of Starfleet.

"Mr. Worf, I am informed that the Commander has some very impressive combat skills and will no doubt be useful to your security operations. I suggest she be included as a member of high risk away teams." He noticed Worf was glowering and added, "Shea has had some unhappy dealings with Klingons in the past and I see by the look on your face that you are well aware of that. Keep in mind that those events occurred long before the peace treaty was in effect. Do not let that history interfere with your professional demeanor in dealing with her."

Worf's prominent forehead ridges seemed even more pronounced when he scowled. "I am well aware of my duties, sir," he growled, "I can deal with her, if she can deal with me."

Picard wondered if that was a promise or a threat. He decided not to pursue it for the moment.

"We will have to be a little more regimented when it comes to shore leave excursions in order to accommodate our newest senior officer," he continued, "I understand we will need to be in port every two to three weeks or so?" Picard looked to Dr. Crusher for confirmation which she gave with a nod. "I will rely on you, to make sure we schedule those in as necessary. She's been ordered to report tomorrow at 0800. Number One, please remain. The rest of you are dismissed."

With a rustle of feet, the room cleared leaving only the Captain and his first officer.

"Will, what I'm telling you now is for your ears only. Commander Shea is coming here under somewhat false pretenses. She has been assigned to Covert Operations under the direct command of the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence."

Riker sat back in surprise, "Covert operations! On this ship?"

Picard held up a hand to silence him. "I know, I know... there's no argument you can make that I haven't already made myself - to no avail. She personally insisted on being assigned to this crew and Starfleet was so anxious to have her, they have agreed to her conditions."

"Why us?" Riker asked.

Picard shook his head, "I don't know. That's what worries me."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Early the next morning, Picard entered his new ready room and pulled Shea's Starfleet records up on his terminal. After he had completed his review, he was definitely impressed with her abilities but far from reassured. Worf's voice over the intercom interrupted his train of thought.

"Commander Shea has reported for duty, sir".

Picard glanced at the time and noted it was exactly 0800 hours.

"Very good, Mr. Worf. Have Commander Riker and Counselor Troi meet me in the Observation Lounge, then bring in Commander Shea."

Picard wanted Riker and Troi with him. He didn't like the idea of confronting Shea alone. The three waited together in the lounge for her arrival. When the door chimed he gave his customary response, "Come." Shea entered and Riker was immediately on his feet. Picard and Troi also stood for the customary introductions.

Shea now wore the standard red Starfleet uniform which did nothing to conceal her obvious attributes. Noting how Riker stared, Picard decided he would have to keep a close watch on his number one. Riker had a long held and well-deserved reputation with the ladies. This new temptation might prove difficult for him to resist.

"Have a seat." Picard gestured toward the empty chair beside Troi. He waited until everyone was in place before speaking. "We've reviewed your file. The Admiral said I would be impressed and I am, but maybe not for the right reasons. Your career was...uneven. Trouble seems to follow you, Commander, and it concerns me that it may accompany you on board this ship. In light of that, I intend to do my best to insulate my crew. First and foremost, I must insist that you comply with a non-fraternization rule. All male personnel on the _Enterprise_ shall be strictly off limits."

"What?" Shea's eyes widened. "You can't do that."

"On the contrary, Commander, I can. You will comply with this restriction or I will not allow you to remain on this ship."

"Captain, are you aware of my physiological requirements?"

"Yes, we are aware," he replied curtly. "For that reason, you will be granted frequent shore leave where you may fraternize with non-Enterprise personnel."

"This is discrimination."

"Call it what you will. Those are the rules. Will you comply?" he demanded.

She glared at him. He waited to see what the outcome of this first test of wills would be. He could feel the tension building like a slow rising heat.

"Very well," she replied at last, obviously subduing her anger with some effort, "I agree to your conditions, for now."

Although he didn't like the conditional ending, he decided to accept it...for now.

"Good," Picard exhaled a long held breath. "Commander Riker has your duty schedule." He looked expectantly at his first officer.

Riker cleared his throat, "Your first assignment will be to assist Commander La Forge in running diagnostics to increase warp core efficiency. Try to complete that by the time we arrive in the Omega Amicron system. You'll also be working with security. See Lt. Worf for your duties there. Upon our arrival, you will assist Lt. Commander Data with the radiation, audio and spectral analyses. We'll give you some time to settle into your quarters first then report to Mr. La Forge."

"I don't need to settle in, Commander," she replied.

"I just thought you would appreciate a little time to unpack," he smiled.

"Thank you, but I have nothing to unpack. I'm ready now."

"Well then," Picard interjected. "We'll let Mr. La Forge know you are on your way."

"Yes sir." Shea rose and departed with three pairs of eyes trained on her back.

Picard made good on his promise to inform Geordi then turned to his two officers.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"I've never met a woman before who traveled without luggage," Riker commented with a smile.

Picard allowed himself a smile in return. He noticed that the Counselor was not smiling. He turned his attention to her.

"I can't read her at all, Captain," she said with a concerned look on her face. "She's like a blank wall. I can feel her presence very strongly but she is able to completely block her feelings. Even when she was so obviously angry I couldn't sense anything. My impression is that she has very formidable mental abilities." She frowned slightly and added, "Actually, sir, she makes me nervous."

"You are not alone in that, Counselor," Picard replied. "I want us all to keep a very close eye on her. If you have any reason to suspect that she is undermining the morale on this ship or creating a problem of any sort you are to inform me immediately." The Captain paused and half-heartedly smiled at them. "Hopefully, our fears are unfounded and she will become another valued member of this crew."

Apparently encouraged by that, Commander Riker spoke up. "She could be a fantastic asset. Shouldn't we try a positive approach, give her the benefit of the doubt? We seem to be condemning her without giving her a chance."

"I'm not condemning anyone," Picard responded defensively. "But neither am I naively assuming that her motives are pure. I have a lot of questions, Number One, as to her spotty service record, and why she's on this ship. She's offered no explanation other than whim and I'm not buying it. Yes, make her feel welcome if you wish, but keep your eyes open. And your hands off."

Riker raised his chin slightly, looking offended, but he simply responded with a polite, "Yes sir." Deanna observed the exchange with obvious interest.

Down in Engineering, Mr. La Forge was doing his level best to concentrate on the task at hand. "Commander, why don't you start the diagnostics on the perimeter warp coils, while I finish up the reconfiguration computations."

Shea nodded and sat at the terminal next to him. She quickly went to work and seemed oblivious to his presence. He was certainly not oblivious to hers, however. He speculated that the Captain decided to have him work with her thinking he wouldn't be influenced by her exterior appearance. While it was true that his genetically caused blindness prevented him from seeing the color of her hair or the shape of her face, his VISOR, a device giving him vision across much of the electromagnetic spectrum, allowed him to appreciate her in an entirely unique way. To him, she glowed. All living beings showed up on his VISOR in swirling rainbow hues of heat and energy, but Shea's appearance was not quite like any that he had seen before. While he found her colors lovely, they were so intense that it was difficult to look directly at her.

"Diagnostics complete, sir," she informed him.

"Excuse me?" he said incredulously. It had only been five minutes. "You can't be done. It takes the computer at least twenty minutes to run through them."

"I circumvented the regular programming and realigned the diagnostics process to simultaneously perform the calibrations with the sweeps thereby cutting the time required. The accuracy is unchanged," she replied crisply, "I trust that's acceptable."

"Um, sure. I guess," Geordi scowled and ran through the readouts, not believing it possible. As he saw each item checked off, his scowl turned to a wonderous smile. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"I'm sure you would have if you didn't have so many other things on your mind." She smiled back at him. "All I had to do was concentrate on this one task. You're concerned with the larger picture here."

"Yeah, sure," Geordi said, not at all convinced that he would ever have thought to do it. "Go ahead with the diagnostics on the antimatter injection reactors. We should be done in record time at this rate."

Shea smiled and returned to her work.

Not long after, the Captain's voice came over Geordi's intercom, "How is it coming, Mr. La Forge?"

"Amazingly well, Captain. We should have the reconfigurations complete long before we reach our destination. At the rate we're working, it should only take another 3 or 4 hours at the most."

"Excellent, Geordi."

Picard felt pleasantly surprised. As he stood on the bridge feeling the thrill of a new ship beneath his feet, he began to hope that perhaps everything would work out all right. Perhaps this Shea would blend into the crew in time. He glanced over at Counselor Troi sitting in her assigned chair on the bridge watching him and no doubt appraising his mood. "It would appear that Geordi and the Commander are working well together." She nodded in response. He turned to his first officer. "You have the bridge, Number One."

Riker settled into the Captain's chair as Picard retired to his ready room. Glancing over at Deanna, Rider smiled and said, "So far, so good."

"It's still early, Commander," Deanna replied.

Three hours and 24 minutes later, Commander Shea reported to the bridge and stood before Riker.

"I've completed my assignments in Engineering, sir," she informed him, "I see Mr. Worf is otherwise occupied so I seem to have nothing to do at the moment."

"Oh. Well, I uh…" Riker hesitated, caught off guard. "Perhaps you should take the opportunity to relax, meet some of the crew."

"Perhaps you would like to introduce me then," Shea suggested, "You could show me around, help me learn the ropes." She looked expectantly at him and he was sorely tempted. Deanna spoke up.

"I'm sure Mr. Data would be delighted to escort you, wouldn't you, Data?" she said. Riker scowled at her interference but she ignored him. "Data is a treasure of information. You couldn't ask for a better guide."

Data immediately stood and stepped toward Commander Shea. "I would be delighted," he said echoing Deanna's words.

Shea took a slow look at Riker before turning her attention to the android. "Thank you, Mr. Data. I have been looking forward to meeting you. I've been thinking we may have much in common."

Data cocked his head. "As have I," he said and followed her into the turbolift.

Riker frowned at Deanna. "Thank you for rescuing me," he said though his tone was anything but thankful.

She smiled contentedly. "You're welcome."

Later that same day, Picard remained at his desk determinedly trying to concentrate on his work. Despite that determination, his mind kept wandering. This new _Enterprise_ was an impressive ship and he was eager to put her to the test. He wondered if this ship would have fared better on his last mission. They'd been about to investigate a deep space anomaly in the Gamma quadrant when interrupted by an attack on an outlying research facility. The events that followed ultimately resulted in the destruction of the _Enterprise-D_ and his personal visit to the Nexus. Guinan had described the experience of the Nexus as "like being wrapped in joy." Even though he'd had the will to reject what the Nexus offered and return to save a solar system from destruction, the memory of his brief experience with pure joy haunted him. He wondered if some echo of himself still remained there as it had for Guinan. Was he still there in some form enjoying the life he had sacrificed in this world, the one with a wife and children? Riker's voice broke into his wandering thoughts.

"We're arriving at Omega Amicron IV, Captain."

"Acknowledged, Number One," Picard shut down his terminal. People may not use pen and paper any more, he mused, but the essential tediousness of record keeping had not changed in centuries. He entered the bridge and stood before the large view screen ignoring the Captain's chair vacated by his first officer.

"On main viewer," he ordered.

A swirling mass of gasses and stars appeared abruptly before him. The sight of the colorful nebula was breathtaking and he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of it. The plasma glowed with hazy red, green and blue tendrils lit up by the two central stars at its heart - this was a giant celestial nursery giving birth to new solar systems. Although the process had been under way for millions of years, it was still an infant in galactic terms.

The _Enterprise _would be approaching the farthest binary star as closely as possible. This large blue star was of particular interest as it dimmed noticeably for a few hours at regular ten-day intervals. The phenomenon had been observed for years. They would be timing their approach precisely to coincide with one of those intervals to document the electromagnetic changes occurring during the star's dimming to determine the cause.

Picard wondered why Starfleet chose to send their newly acquired flagship for such a routine mission. Acclimation to their new ship, he'd been told. More like acclimation to their new crewmember. The thought only added to his resentment at having her on board. Still, the nebula was impressive. And he didn't resent the opportunity to observe it at close range. Mr. Data would running the tests. Only then did he realize that Data was not at his station.

"Number One, where is Mr. Data?" he inquired.

"On his way," Riker replied. "He was showing Commander Shea around, sir."

Picard frowned. "I hardly think that is a credible use of his time."

Counselor Troi piped up, "It was my suggestion, sir."

The Captain harrumphed in irritation.

"I've informed them of our arrival," Riker stated, "They should be reporting shortly."

Almost on cue the turbolift opened spilling out Shea and Data engaged in a lively conversation regarding the nature of human emotions. The conversation came to an abrupt halt when they saw the expression on Captain Picard's face.

"Nice of you to join us," he said. The tone was lost on Mr. Data who merely responded with a polite, "Thank you, sir," and took his seat. Shea remained on the upper level looking amused.

Picard turned to the view screen vowing not to be distracted. "Mr. Data, you may order the cartograghy department to begin mapping. I understand you will be performing the audio and spectral analyses personally."

"Yes sir," Data responded. "Commander Shea will be assisting me as ordered."

"Fine, fine," Picard said, "Keep me informed of your progress."

Returning to his ready room, he reflected that it looked as if he would have plenty of time to complete his record keeping entries. It did not fill him with delight. After several hours, the empty forms listed on his screen seemed far from depleted. His door chimed. "Come."

Counselor Troi entered. "Captain, I'm sensing an increasing frustration on your part. Is there a problem I can help you with?" she asked.

He sighed deeply. "I'm just fed up with all this red tape, Counselor. It never seems to end."

"I sympathize, Captain. Perhaps you should call it a day," she suggested, "It's late and you've been at it for hours. Why don't you go run a holodeck program or perhaps a visit to Ten Forward would improve your mood."

"Perhaps so, Counselor," he nodded, "I admit that I don't need much encouragement to get away from this terminal. Especially when I have plenty of time since this mission requires little of my attention."

"You resent this assignment, sir," she surmised.

"I think 'resent' is a little strong. Let's just say I'm a bit tired of catering to the whims of arrogant bureaucrats who think they know everything about commanding a starship when the only thing they've ever piloted is a desk." The Counselor held her breath for just a moment. He realized that he had spoken with more venom than he had intended. "You're right, Deanna. I do need a break."

He rose from his chair and escorted her out of his ready room. Stepping alone into the turbolift, he said, "Ten Forward." The lift hesitated and he revised his instructions, "Forward Lounge, Deck 9." The lift took him swiftly to his destination. He made a mental note to have their familiar name for the main personnel lounge cross-referenced with the formal one.

Upon entering Ten Forward, his eyes immediately spotted the person he wanted to see. Guinan glided smoothly towards him as he sat down at the bar. She tipped her head to him and her incredible hat bobbed slightly.

"The usual, Captain?" she asked regarding him with warm brown eyes in an equally warm brown face.

He nodded in affirmation and she set a frosty glass of synthehol before him. His favorite libation was actually wine preferably from his own family's vineyard, but synthehol's effects were far less than that of alcohol and could be easily recovered from in an emergency situation. Picard carefully protected the functioning of his mental faculties at all times whether on or off duty.

"So how do you like your new stomping grounds, Guinan?" he asked.

"Very plush," she answered, "but I admit it'll take some getting used to. I'm still trying to organize everything the way I like."

He nodded at her and fell silent. He had an odd request for a civilian hostess of a recreation lounge, but then Guinan was no ordinary barmaid.

"Something on your mind, Captain?"

"Yes. Have you met our new Commander, yet?" he asked watching her expression.

"Data whisked her through here earlier," she answered. "I didn't get a chance to talk to her, but I've certainly heard plenty through the rumor mill. I only caught a glimpse. Quite attractive."

Picard declined to comment on that last remark. "Have you formed any impression?" he asked.

"Too soon to tell." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Although I am impressed with the effect she's having on the crew. There's this undercurrent of excitement over and above that of being on a new ship. It's a kind of an exhilaration, I'd say."

Picard wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Guinan, I want you to make a point of meeting her, talking to her. The sooner the better. I'm very interested in anything your special insights can reveal."

"Does she worry you?"

"Yes," he admitted. "She most certainly does."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Upon leaving Ten-Forward, Captain Picard decided some exercise would do him good before retiring. He headed for the holodeck and chose a re-creation of the same marathon course at Starfleet Academy he had run on many occasions. He had been the first Freshman ever to win it. On that day he'd run it in a miserably cold rain fighting up muddy terrain to outdistance even the more experienced upper-class competitors. But now he was only racing against himself and he had chosen a clear crisp spring morning. He set out at a moderate jog enjoying the route as it wound through the recreated landscape of the Academy and out into the lush green hills beyond. A mile and a half later, he'd settled into that steady mind-numbing pace where worries receded, and there was only the rhythm of his breathing and the sound of his feet hitting solid ground. The hypnotic pace of it broke abruptly. Someone was running up from behind.

"Nice program," Shea said as she came abreast and matched his pace. "You come here often?"

"When I feel the need for solitude," he said, hoping she'd get the point.

"I know what you mean. There's nothing like the great outdoors to clear the mind and refresh the soul. I ran this course myself a few times, back in the day. The real thing hasn't changed much. It's nice to know some things haven't."

Picard didn't like the idea of being alone with her, but he supposed as long as he kept moving he was safe enough. Besides he needed to understand what motivated her. "You're a runner then?"

"I guess you could say that. I enjoy most anything that's physically involving. The more intense the better."

He smiled at that. "I see."

"I thought you might." She smiled and quickened her pace. He ran faster to match her.

"There's something I'd like to know," he said. "Starfleet told me that you gave them this ship. Who built it for you?"

"A friend."

"I don't suppose you could be a little more enlightening?"

She laughed and pulled ahead of him. This was no longer a moderate jog. He sprinted to catch up.

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you who built this ship if you can catch me." Suddenly she dashed ahead, well beyond his reach. He gave his all, running full speed but she flew ahead of him, outpacing him, outdistancing him and he suspected she wasn't even breathing hard to do it. Perhaps Data could match her, but no human. Picard quit trying. She was playing with him and he had no intention of becoming her toy. He slowed to his previous pace and let her go.

"Giving up, Captain?" she turned and called back to him. "So soon? I'm disappointed."

"A wise man knows his limits," he replied.

"But only a fool limits himself. I never took you for a fool, Picard." She smacked her chest in challenge. "Come on, let's see what you're made of."

Almost before he realized it, he was running full-speed once more. He was almost upon her, feeling his lungs and heart near bursting with the effort - his leg muscles burning hot. He reached out and her long hair blew back caressing his stretched fingertips. Then she laughed and sprinted ahead leaving him as easily as if he'd been standing in place. He slowed, panting hard, and doubling over. When he looked up again, she was gone.

A few hours later, he reclined on the sofa in his quarters after trying to wash the perplexing encounter from his mind with a cold shower. He had a volume from his collection of the works of Shakespeare in hand and was leisurely reviewing some favorite passages when his door chimed.

"Come," he responded automatically.

Commander Shea entered the room. _Oh dear_, he thought. She had changed from her uniform into a sleeveless, revealingly low-cut dress in a body-clinging fabric of pale green. He sat upright and would have risen to his feet, but her gesture stopped him.

"Please, don't get up. I'm sure you are enjoying some much deserved rest. May I sit?"

"If you must," he answered stiffly, gesturing toward the chair across from him. Instead she sat beside him. Picard felt his hackles rise.

"What is it you want, Commander?" he asked sharply.

Shea twisted so that she faced him, "Captain, I can't help notice that you are concerned about having me on board."

Her nearness was disconcerting. And that dress! Picard tried to gather his thoughts.

"I... admit to some misgivings," he replied, "To be honest, you were assigned to the _Enterprise_ over my objections."

"I see," she breathed, leaning a little closer while gazing into his eyes, "And just what exactly is it that you object to?"

"Well, I ..." For some reason, Picard couldn't recall a single objection at the moment and his thoughts tumbled together in confusion. He felt as if he were slowly sinking into those deep emerald eyes, and there was this wonderful heady fragrance. She was so temptingly close. All he had to do was reach out and...

Suddenly it was as if a Red Alert went off in his head. He snapped his raised hand back and leaped up. What he had been feeling a moment before was now replaced with rage.

"Get out!" he yelled. She stood, her eyes wide. "Don't you ever try anything like that again." He backed her towards the door and it opened. "My quarters are off limits to you. If you want to discuss anything with me, put it in a _memo_!"

The door hissed shut between them. He breathed a sigh of relief but a moment later, it chimed again. He strode to the door and opened it. "I told you…"

"Told me what, sir?" Riker asked.

"Oh, sorry, Number One," Picard let go of his anger, "I thought you were someone else." He turned away allowing Riker to follow him in.

"So I gather," Riker replied. "I heard you yelling and saw Commander Shea making a hasty retreat. What did she do to warrant an outburst like that?"

"What she did was ..." Picard started to say, then hesitated trying to clarify his thoughts, "that is, she ..." Gradually he realized that he couldn't quite recall what terrible thing she'd actually done. She may have sat a little too near him, but - . Why had he exploded like that? "I'm not sure really, I just suddenly felt... threatened." Now, he felt foolish. "I may have overreacted."

"Odd isn't it?" Riker commented, "The effect she's had on you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Picard demanded.

"Seems to have brought out the worst in you: suspicion, anger, even fear, yet you can't articulate one thing she's actually done to deserve it."

"I base my suspicions on her record, Number One."

"I have another theory, sir, though I doubt you'll like it."

Picard sighed deeply thinking there was no stopping him now, "Go on."

Riker smiled a little before continuing. "I think you're attracted to her, sir. But since you can't afford those feelings you're insulating yourself with anger and suspicion."

"Thank you, Counselor Riker. But I too have a theory. I am suspicious of her because of her questionable record. I am angry because I felt threatened; and if I felt threatened, it's probably because I was."

"If you say so," Riker looked unconvinced. He glanced at the duty roster in his hand. "I was coming here to discuss some personnel matters."

Picard didn't care to discuss anything at the moment. "Tomorrow, first thing."

Riker nodded and took his leave. Picard returned to his sofa to settle back down to reading. He tried to concentrate, but his mind was in turmoil replaying the visit from Shea, his violent reaction and Commander Riker's comments. He finally had to admit defeat and slammed his book shut. He retired for the night ordering his lights out, but it was a long time before he slept.

The next day, Picard still wasn't clear in his mind as to exactly what had transpired the previous evening, but he resolved to get it out in the open. Upon arriving on the bridge, he summoned Commander Shea to his ready room.

"Commander, I may owe you an apology for my outburst last night. For some reason, I felt threatened. Do you have any idea why I might have felt that?"

"I have no idea, Captain," she answered innocently, "It was just a harmless little visit."

"And what exactly was the purpose of that visit, Commander?" he demanded.

"To get to know you better. I thought we could be friends."

"Friends?" he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yes, why not?"

"You haven't conveniently forgotten your agreement to abide by the non-fraternization rule?"

"Well, I was hoping you might be convinced to change your mind-Captain's prerogative, you know."

"So you intended to seduce me," he said.

"Would you really mind so much?" she asked leaning forward onto his desk.

He pulled back and glared at her. "You've just validated my opinion of you. I don't like your attitude and I don't trust your motives. Non-fraternization is non-negotiable. If we are to have any mutual respect for one another, I must be confident that you can be trusted. At the moment, I have no reason to think so."

She straightened taking a step back and suddenly everything about her demeanor did a one-eighty. "You're right, Captain, I was out of line." Her coy smile had vanished. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. Consider yourself on report."

Later, Riker marched into the Captain's ready room. Picard looked up at the unannounced intrusion. "Commander?"

"Captain, I just learned that Shea has been put on report for insubordination."

"Yes, Number One."

"Does this have anything to do with last night?"

"It does."

"That's a very serious reprimand."

"I'm well aware of that. It's also well-deserved."

"Sir, last night you seemed unclear about what she had actually done."

"What was unclear last night is now crystal clear this morning."

"Which means?"

"If you must know, Number One, she attempted to circumvent the non-fraternization rule."

"What? With you?"

"Precisely."

"Oh come on, Captain."

Picard suddenly felt offended. "I am not imagining this. She admitted it. I'm giving her another chance only because she has promised it won't happen again."

"So she's accepted fault and promised not to offend you again, and you still put her on report. Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"No, I don't. I think it entirely appropriate." Picard sat back in his chair and appraised the look of righteous indignation on the face of his first officer. "I wonder if the Commander knows what an advocate she has in you, Number One?"

"I'm just trying to be fair, sir."

"Keep trying. Just make sure you are not unduly influenced," Picard's eyes bore into him.

"No, sir," Riker responded, annoyed to be reminded once more.

Data's voice came over the comlink, "Captain, the dimming of the binary star is calculated to be at its lowest point in 30 minutes. We are ready to make our approach."

"Understood," Picard responded. He strode out onto the bridge with Riker close behind. "Lay in a course, Mr. Data, and approach at half impulse."

"Increase shields to maximum," Riker ordered. The ship would be passing through fiery red sulfur gasses.

Ahead lay the huge blue star darkened by the view screen to a comfortable level. Shea was busily running the preliminary spectrographic analyses while Data reported distance and gravitational force levels as they approached.

"That's close enough, Mr. Data," Picard ordered, "Maintain orbit."

Picard watched the spectacular view of the star through the darkened viewer for some time until it began to visibly dim as anticipated.

"Captain," Data spoke, "I am getting some unusual readings. There seems to be a temporal field distortion in the area."

"Look at that!" Riker stared at the viewer. Picard looked up to see the backside of the star coming into view. A wide stream of light and energy flowed away from the star narrowing to a single point in the distance.

"Analysis, Mr. Data," Picard requested.

"Sir, I believe we are witnessing the effects of a neutron star," Data surmised.

"There's no record of a neutron star in this area. Why was it never reported?" Picard asked wonderingly.

"I believe it is due to a temporal energy vortex in the vicinity, sir. If my readings are correct, it would indicate that the neutron star is phasing in and out of this universe at regular ten-day intervals thus causing the corresponding dimming cycle of the binary star."

"Incredible," Picard said.

"It would be most unwise to get between these stars. I suggest breaking orbit immediately," Data advised.

"Make it so, Mr. Data."

Data entered the command on his terminal to alter their trajectory. The ship remained steadily on course toward the bright stream ahead of them. "Helm control is off-line, sir," Data informed him, "Going to manual. No response, sir."

"Geordi!" Picard called Engineering over the intercom urgently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Commander Shea dash from her station and jump into the turbolift. It irritated him, but he had no time to be distracted. "We need an immediate course correction. What's going on down there?"

"I'm on it, Captain," Geordi called out even as he ran to override the controls. But for some reason everything seemed fused in place. He punched his fist on the control panel in frustration and ran to the impulse engine monitors. After a quick review of their status, he thought he knew what was wrong and it wasn't good. "Captain, the helm control and impulse engine controls have been cross-linked. The only way to restore helm control is to shut down, and reload. Unfortunately, that would take about half an hour."

"Why can't we override on manual?" Picard demanded.

"One too many fail-safes, Captain," Geordi responded, "We're caught in a loop."

"We could physically shut down the impulse engines at the source which would allow us jump to Warp drive," Shea said over the intercom.

Picard heard her. "Yes, but we'll still be in the path of the neutron star if we can't change course."

Data overheard and quickly grasped her intent. "If we go to maximum warp we could theoretically escape orbit by using the gravitational pull of the blue star to alter our trajectory and cut at right angles across the pull of the neutron star at high velocity," Data informed him. "It would be risky but I believe this ship could endure the stresses. At present course and speed, we will be caught in the gravitational pull of the neutron star in 2 minutes 34 seconds."

"Very well. Can you do it, Geordi?" Picard demanded.

"Yes, sir," Geordi yelled, "but I'll have to physically enter the deuterium control conduit to shut down the fusion impulse-engine reactors before you can initiate the warp drive." He was heading to a locker to grab one of the radiation protection suits. "I just hope I can get inside and crawl through there fast enough."

"Forget it, Geordi. There's no time." Shea ran for the conduit, "I'm on it. Monitor my progress."

"Wait! " Geordi yelled but she had disappeared into the conduit. And she hadn't put on a radiation suit. "Damn," he muttered and returned to the control panel where he could monitor her progress.

"Report, Mr. La Forge!" the Captain demanded.

"Shea's gone in, Captain. I'm watching her on the monitor. She... what the hell? Captain, she's turned off the gravity feed in the conduit and has jumped through heading for the switching panels. She's flying," Geordi laughed, "just like Superman..."

"Who?" asked the Captain.

"Nevermind," Geordi smiled, "just a childhood memory. She's reached the panels and is shutting down the impulse engines."

Picard heard the sound of the impulse engines fading. On screen he could see their orbit starting to decay as they began pointing toward the blue binary star. Data was calculating the exact trajectory necessary to escape the pull of the neutron star at full warp power.

"All personnel brace for maximum acceleration," Picard addressed the entire ship. "Hold for my order, Mr. LaForge. Initiate maximum Warp on my mark."

The bright massive blue star began to fill the screen. It seemed as if they were headed directly for it as Data counted down the coordinates to the necessary heading.

"Now Mr. LaForge!" Picard felt the ship lurch and himself pushed back into his seat as the Warp Engines went to full power. The hull of the ship creaked and groaned under the stress of being forced in one direction while pulled in the other as they passed through gravitational field of the neutron star. They should be tearing through space at an incredibly fast rate of speed, but the combined forces slowed them to the point that they appeared to be crawling forward at less than a quarter impulse power.

Light and energy of the blue star poured past them and into the viewing window. They were fully engulfed in the stream. At this point it was difficult to assess if they were making any headway at all. Picard watched the viewer with growing apprehension.

If they had turned too quickly the pull of the neutron would suck them in and the gravitational forces would tear the hull apart. If they hadn't turned quickly enough they would meet a fiery death in the heat of the blue star's corona. There was nothing to be done at this point except pray that Data's calculations were precisely correct. He'd never been wrong yet. Picard fervently hoped this wouldn't be the first.

The ship continued to shudder and creak under the stress, while the computer calmly reported increasing hull temperatures as they were being roasted by the streaming heat of the blue star. The roaring vibration reached a teeth-chattering level, when suddenly the ship broke free. Shooting away from the tug-of-war pull of the two stars, they shot through space at top warp speed away from the Nebula.

"Cut power, Commander," Picard ordered and the engines slowed and shut down. "Well done, Geordi. It would seem you have your work cut out for you getting those controls back on line and making sure nothing like this ever happens again."

"Yes, sir," Geordi breathed with relief, "I'll get right on it."

Shea crawled out of the conduit and Geordi rushed over to assist her. Her skin was already reddened and blistered with evidence of radiation burns. And the Captain hadn't even thanked her, he thought.

"That would have killed anybody else," he told her shaking his head worriedly, "Why didn't you put on a radiation suit?"

"There wasn't time," she said wincing. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

He offered to help her to sickbay but she waved him away so he just stood and watched as she limped off. To sickbay he assumed. In reality she headed for the holodeck and called up a program of her own making, a recreation of the Pacific Ocean on Earth. She ripped off her uniform and eased herself into the waves and out into deeper waters.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Once Geordi erased and reloaded the helm control programming, the _Enterprise_ returned to complete its mission from a safe distance. After days of running detailed diagnostic analyses of the ship's computer system, Geordi still had no explanation for why the error had occurred in the first place. It made no sense to him and thus he was unable to assure Captain Picard that there would be no repeat of the previous events. Picard advised him to look very carefully for any signs of sabotage. Geordi had done a thorough search already but nodded and returned to Engineering to continue looking for an answer.

Picard certainly couldn't complain how Commander Shea had handled herself in the crisis based on Geordi's report, but he was just suspicious enough to wonder if somehow she might have been responsible for the crisis to begin with. He wavered in his assessment of her, between fear that she might have sabotaged the computer herself and wonder at how she had unselfishly risked her own health to save the ship. At this point, he couldn't determine whether she was their best asset or their worst liability.

Upon reflection, he realized that Guinan had never gotten back to him. And that wasn't like her. He decided a follow-up visit was in order and headed for Ten Forward. Guinan was at her usual place behind the bar. As he approached her, he noticed that instead of immediately coming to meet him as she normally did, she moved away.

"Guinan," he called to her. He was amazed to see her still hesitate and then turn only reluctantly in his direction. She finally came over and greeted him.

"Hello, Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Is everything all right, Guinan?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You don't seem to want to talk to me."

"Nonsense." She offered him an unconvincing smile.

"Well, did you meet with Commander Shea?" he asked.

"Oh, excuse me, Captain. I see a customer trying to get my attention." Guinan rushed away, leaving Picard standing with his mouth open.

After a brief moment, Picard followed her to a table where she appeared to be making an effort to seem busy. He nodded to the Ensign seated there, "Excuse us, please." He took Guinan by the arm and escorted her into her office. With the doors closed behind them, he confronted her.

"What's going on? Why are you avoiding me?"

"Now why would I be avoiding you?"

"Guinan, this is ridiculous. I asked you to meet with Commander Shea. Did you or didn't you?"

"I did," she nodded.

"And?"

"And, nothing," she shrugged.

"What do you mean nothing? Surely you must have formed some opinion of her. She's hardly the sort of person that makes no impression."

"I met with her. We talked. She seems very... nice."

"NICE? Is that all you can say?"

"I think you should form your own opinion, Captain," she replied firmly.

"Guinan, this is the first time in our long acquaintance that I have actually been irritated with you. It is not without notice that the cause is Commander Shea. After just a few days' time of her being on board I find myself at odds with two of the people with whom I am most close," Picard waited for a reaction but Guinan remained silent. "Are you sure you have nothing to add?"

"No, I don't think so," Guinan smiled apologetically separating her hands in supplication.

Picard shook his head wearily and strode out of the room. There was someone else he hadn't recently spoken to whose opinion he trusted. He headed back to the bridge.

"Counselor, may I see you in my ready room."

Deanna nodded and followed him in.

"I seem to be having trouble getting an unbiased opinion on Commander Shea's performance," he motioned for her to sit down while he took his chair behind the desk. "I'd appreciate hearing yours."

"As to performance of her duties, she seems to be doing quite well as I'm sure you are aware," she began. "Geordi is thoroughly impressed with the help she's provided him in Engineering. Data seems equally pleased with the assistance she's provided him. Even Worf grudgingly admitted to me that her martial arts training class was excellent," she smiled and added conspiratorially, "but don't tell her he said so. He'd never forgive me."

Picard smiled back briefly then pushed harder. "How about on a personal level? Does she still make you nervous, Counselor?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but less so. She seems friendlier somehow, not as intimidating. Maybe I'm starting to get used to her. She's been spending quite a bit of her leisure time in Ten Forward, so people are getting to know her a bit. She has a delightful sense of humor, sir."

"Really?" Picard was surprised at the Counselor's almost glowing report. "So you think she's fitting in then."

"Yes, I think so. I wouldn't worry too much, Captain," she smiled reassuringly. "People seem to be adjusting."

"Nevertheless, Counselor, remain vigilant."

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you. That will be all."

After her departure he wondered if he should find Deanna's report as encouraging as it seemed. He didn't like the fact that Guinan had been so uncooperative. He liked it even less knowing that Shea was spending "quite a bit of her leisure time in Ten Forward" as Deanna had stated. That meant Guinan would have had plenty of time to form an opinion, which she had obviously chosen not to share with him. Perhaps Guinan was right; he needed to form his own opinion.

That evening, Picard decided to join the social scene in Ten Forward. As he entered the lounge, he was greeted by raucous laughter coming from a group of people surrounding someone he couldn't quite see. He approached Guinan and asked what was going on?

"Shea's telling stories," she smiled, "She's led a very interesting life."

"What kind of stories?"

"Mostly about the _Enterprise 1701_ and its crew. People are fascinated to get the inside story from someone who personally knew Captain James T. Kirk. They keep asking questions and she keeps answering them," Guinan shook her head and laughed, "She's not shy."

Picard wandered over closer to the crowd. He was surprised no one noticed him. His appearance normally resulted in an immediate response which was why he seldom frequented Ten Forward. It was hard to relax when his very presence caused tension in those around him. But for the moment everyone in his vicinity were listening in rapt attention to Shea's words.

"...if you've ever seen an amorous Borian Slime Lizard, you know what I'm talking about." Laughter filled the air. "Kirk's crashing through that Torellian energy field actually made a lot of sense for someone as motivated as he was." She paused amid the chuckles.

Apparently the tale was complete. Through the crowd, her eyes met his. People began turning around and noticing his presence. Slowly they dispersed offering polite greetings as they made their way back to previously deserted tables.

"You seem to be quite the entertainer," Picard observed.

"I'm merely a thing of curiosity. It'll wear off in time. Please, Captain, won't you join me." He hesitated and she added, "I promise to behave myself."

He nodded and pulled out the empty chair at her table. He noted that she no longer bore any evidence of injury. Without corrective surgery anyone else would have been scarred for life, but then anyone else would have spent weeks in sickbay recovering from radiation sickness assuming they recovered at all. Suddenly it occurred to him that the sleeves were missing from her uniform.

"That's hardly regulation, Commander," he scowled gesturing at her bare arms.

"You have to remember, Captain," she replied, "I absorb energy through my skin. All this clothing is uncomfortable for me. I was thinking about cutting the pant-legs off, too."

"Don't," he told her.

"Funny, I don't see you getting all bent out of shape about those skimpy outfits Deanna wears on duty," she said pointedly, "I wouldn't exactly call them regulation."

"That is not your concern. When you report for duty, your uniform had better be in one piece as issued," he warned her.

She frowned at him, shaking her head. He frowned back and was about to launch into another lecture when Guinan suddenly appeared with a drink in hand, sat it down before him and left without comment.

"I think she wants you to relax a little." Shea turned to watch Guinan walk away, "She's quite an amazing person, but sad. I understand that most of her people were wiped out by the Borg."

"Yes. All true," he answered wondering what had transpired between the two women.

"And yet she's not bitter."

"No, she appreciates life too much to permit that. I've never known her to be _vengeful_," he said pointedly.

Shea understood that he was making an unkind comparison and glared at him in response. Picard broke the unfriendly silence.

"You seem to have developed some allies among the crew. I hear nothing but glowing reports."

"Allies?" she asked. "Do I need allies here? I thought we were all on the same side?"

"I'd like to think so, Commander, but I'm not convinced."

"Why are you so suspicious of me? I've already promised not to repeat my prior indiscretion. What else can I do to reassure you?" When Picard made no response, she continued, "I'm not out to undermine your authority if that's what you're worried about." Picard wondered slightly if she was capable of reading his mind. She continued, "I turned the command down, remember? I don't want to be in charge. I don't want the headaches or the responsibilities... or the paperwork." Picard glanced up at her suddenly certain that she must be able to read minds. "I'm quite happy to leave those matters to driven types like yourself."

"Then what is it that you do want?" he asked, "Tell me the truth-why are you here?"

"All in good time, Captain, all in good time," she smiled mysteriously.

"I don't appreciate enigmatic responses," he replied, not smiling.

"No, I know you don't. Trouble is I'm beginning to wonder what, if anything, you would appreciate. I didn't expect you to be so stiff. What's the matter, Captain? Has time really taken that much of a toll on you? Don't you remember how to have fun. Has life gotten as routine as those reports you have to make? Maybe it's about time somebody stirred things up for you."

"If you stir up any trouble here, I will personally see to it that you are shipped back to Starfleet Headquarters bound in a detention restraining suit."

"Sounds pretty kinky to me."

"Stop that. Must you be so infuriatingly disrespectful? You are a member of my senior staff and I expect you to behave accordingly."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," she tried to straighten her face, "You take everything so seriously. Don't worry, when it's important, you'll be able to count on me."

"I'm not at all sure just how reliable your promises are," he scowled at her, "Especially when I can't get a straight answer from you as to why you insisted on being assigned to this ship or even how you came to acquire it."

Shea regarded him thoughtfully for a few moments before answering. "Once upon a time, there was a sweet young girl who lived in a happy kingdom. She felt important, appreciated, accepted. Then something very very nasty happened and she had to go far far away, but she never forgot her fond memories of those early days of innocence."

"For someone with such fond memories, you had a strange way of showing it," Picard replied skeptically.

"You're referring to my resignation?"

"Resignation!" he scoffed, "Is that a polite euphemism for betrayal and desertion?"

"I was exonerated!" she replied hotly.

"Insufficient evidence to convict hardly constitutes exoneration," he retorted.

"Insufficient evidence is a polite _euphemism_ for Starfleet covering its _you know what!_" They knew I didn't take that sword, but they turned me over to the Klingons without so much as a protest. It took two years for Kirk to get me out of prison."

"There's no mention in Starfleet's records of your being incarcerated. On the contrary, the records show that immediately after the charges were brought against you, you deserted."

"Well, it just goes to show what imaginative editing can do." She looked at his doubtful expression. "It's not surprising the record has been altered. They wouldn't want it generally known that Starfleet decided it was easier to make me the sacrificial lamb than face the wrath of the Klingon Empire. After they found out the guilty party was one of Starfleet's most trusted and revered admirals, they were even less likely to admit it. No, it was so much easier to let me take the fall and rot on that prison world. Thank God for loyal friends, otherwise, I'd probably still be there. You can hardly blame me for wanting to resign after that, but I never betrayed anybody and I never deserted!"

"You'll forgive me if I am skeptical of your version of history."

She flashed him a scathing look but then grew surprisingly calm again. "I understand your caution, Captain, but I assure you that very soon, you are going to trust me implicitly."

Picard couldn't think of anything less likely.

The next morning, Picard met with his security officer. "Mr. Worf, would it be possible for you to access the Klingon Prison World records? I want to either confirm or dispel the rumor that Commander Shea was incarcerated on one of those planets."

"I should be able to get that information through my contacts," Worf responded.

"Good. Make it so. Let me know as soon as you have the results."

It took the better part of two days for Worf to obtain the records requested by his Captain, days filled with frustrating calls to a number of uncooperative sources. Worf spent much of it snarling at anyone who accidentally got in his way. Fortunately, most of the crew knew better than to bother him when he was in one of these moods and the ignorant ones soon learned. He finally managed to locate the right people and make the necessary threats required to access the records he sought.

"Captain," Worf reported proudly, "I have confirmed that Commander Shea spent almost two years on CHe'tach, a Klingon prison planet. I have obtained the files detailing her incarceration." He handed the Captain a small disc. "I thought it best not to load them into the main computer without your prior authorization."

"Well done, Mr. Worf. Thank you." Picard waited until Worf had left his ready room before inserting the disc into his terminal. He leaned over the screen scanning the contents. There was no doubt that the prisoner in question had been Shea. And what had been done to her during her incarceration was horrifying. No wonder she had no love for Starfleet Command or for Klingons. And that made it even more incredible to believe that she would willingly gift a ship to Starfleet, with only condition was that it be assigned to the crew of the lost Enterprise-D. What was the connection? Was she planning some sort of revenge? But then why would she have brought this grievance to his attention? Perhaps to sway him to her side. It was no secret that like most space-faring personnel he felt a certain antagonism toward his deskbound counterparts. He wondered if Shea was hoping to exploit that division.

He tended to believe Starfleet had good reason to suspect her involvement in the Sacred Sword of Kahless incident. Still, he couldn't condone the way she had been summarily turned over to the Klingon authorities. Nor could he deny that the Starfleet records had been seriously altered to cover it up. He removed the disc and locked it away in his drawer.

That night, Picard decided that another visit to Ten Forward was in order. He again found Shea sitting at the same table but this time no crowd had gathered. She sat alone gazing out the star filled viewing windows. She noticed his approach and lifted a ruby-filled glass towards him in greeting. He sat across from her in silence for a moment. When he spoke it was in a low voice designed not to carry to the others in the room.

"I would like to express my sympathy for the suffering you incurred during your incarceration on CHe'tach."

"Thank you, Captain." Shea nodded graciously. "Apology accepted."

"Does that explain the motive behind your subsequent attack on a certain Klingon warship?"

"Let's just say I had a score to settle."

"Explain."

"Captain Whargh'tog enjoyed visiting prison worlds for his _personal_ entertainment, and his crew's. They were remarkably sadistic even by Klingon standards." She spoke calmly, but Picard could see the cold fury in her eyes.

"I can understand your motives, but I cannot condone your actions," he spoke firmly, "A hundred and twelve Klingon warriors died on that ship. Skirmishes along the neutral zone picked up dramatically and peace negotiations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire were set back for years."

"I wasn't part of Starfleet at the time," she replied. "They knew it was personal."

"Klingons object to having their ships blown out of space even for personal reasons," he frowned.

"This is ancient history, Captain. Why even discuss it?"

"I'm concerned about history repeating itself. I can't afford to have you running around my ship making decisions about who deserves to live or die. I need to be certain that you will not take matters into your own hands."

"Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. You bucking for a promotion?"

"I don't find that amusing, Commander."

"Oh relax, will you?" Shea sighed and sat back in her chair. "You have to remember that I was very young then. I'm not so easily riled anymore. I have no intention of running amok."

"I certainly hope not."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Captain Picard received a distress call and summoned Riker to the Bridge. "We have word of an attack on a settlement on Rigel 3 in the Dago system," Picard informed him. "It seems we are the closest ship."

"Very good, sir. Lay in a course, Mr. Data." Riker ordered. Within the hour, Rigel 3's orange and gold swirled image appeared on the viewscreen. Worf reported that there were no other ships in the area, while Data began scanning the surface.

"Sir, there is evidence of large scale destruction," Data reported. "High radiation levels. I detect three surviving humanoid life forms on the surface. One appears to be encased in a protective cylinder buried 5 meters below the debris of one settlement compound. The other two are approximately six kilometers north of the compound traveling in a land vehicle."

"Any success in hailing anyone, Mr. Worf?"

"Negative."

"Shall we send down a landing party, Captain?" Riker asked, eager as always to take action.

"Wait on that, Number One," Picard replied, "Let's bring the survivors on board first. Alert sickbay."

"Acknowledged," Data answered and proceeded to coordinate the beam up with the transporter room personnel. "The survivor located under the debris in the settlement has safely transported aboard. Now engaging transport of the two persons in the land vehicle."

Data's fingers flew over the terminal and suddenly stopped in midair. His yellow eyes registered what in a human would have been surprise.

"What is it, Mr. Data?" Picard asked.

"I am sorry, sir, but the vehicle suddenly exploded. Transport was not successful."

"Two more deaths," Picard muttered grimly. He looked at his first officer. "Let's get down to sickbay and see what our lone survivor can tell us."

Upon their arrival, they found Dr. Crusher bent over an examination table. When she stepped aside they saw that her unconscious patient was none other than Commander Shea.

"What the devil? Where is the survivor and what's happened to the Commander?" Picard demanded before Beverly had a chance to speak.

"That is the survivor and that's not Shea," she answered, "At least, not our Shea."

"Explain," Picard demanded.

"A genetic twin, but there are significant differences. She's much younger, not much more than a teenager, 8 centimeters shorter and 16 kilograms lighter. She may be an immature clone. I was just about to run some tests to confirm it."

"A clone?" Picard searched his memory. "I seem to recall some earlier efforts which proved unsuccessful, but all the tissue samples were destroyed."

"What if a sample was taken recently from her new medical files at headquarters?" Riker asked, "Could it have grown to this level?"

Dr. Crusher nodded, "It's possible. The cylinder we found her in is an artificial womb equipped with an aging accelerator."

"Should we inform Commander Shea?" Riker asked.

"I think it best she doesn't know about this yet. I also recall that she strongly objected to those earlier attempts. We don't want to set her off. Put a lid on this, Doctor. Meanwhile, Number One, begin your investigation below. We'll reconvene upon your return."

Riker nodded, "Understood."

A few hours later, Picard met with Riker and Dr. Crusher in his ready room.

"Well, Doctor?" Picard opened.

"She's definitely a clone. She appears almost fully developed but there's zero brain activity."

"Wasn't that the same problem encountered with the previous experiments?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded, "The scientists were able to recreate her physical body but they were never able to bring any of the clones to consciousness. They all died shortly after reaching maturity."

Picard turned his attention to Commander Riker, "And what did you find on the surface, Number One?"

"There's not much left. There were three dead personnel at the research center and two in the vehicle debris. We also found several empty cloning cylinders."

"More clones?" Picard surmised.

Riker nodded in agreement, "That would be my guess."

"Why recreate a failed experiment?" Picard asked, "What would be the point?"

"Perhaps they believed that with recent advances in cellular generation they could succeed where the others had failed," Dr. Crusher theorized.

"Perhaps," Picard responded. He looked closely at his two officers and decided to take them into his confidence. "When I informed Starfleet Command of the situation, Admiral Thomas, head of genetic research, came on line immediately. He, of course, denied any knowledge, but you should have seen the look on his face. It was like catching a child with his hand in the cookie jar. And he was adamant that Shea not be told."

"This is getting interesting," Riker observed.

"I can't believe that Starfleet would authorize this," Beverly said, "Cloning has been banned in the Federation for over a century."

"Yes, and it was during that same ban that Starfleet conducted the original experiments," Picard reminded her.

The door chime interrupted their thoughts.

"Come," said the Captain.

Suddenly both Shea and Worf burst through the door. Worf was bristling with anger.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I told her you were in conference and not to be disturbed." Worf then turned and snarled loudly in Shea's face, "but she wouldn't listen!"

"Thank you, Mr. Worf, I'll handle this." Picard waited for Worf to exit. "So Commander, what seems to be the problem?"

"Something very odd is going on around here and you are purposely keeping me in the dark."

"What makes you say that?" Picard stalled for time.

"First, Riker refused to allow me to accompany the away team, which is supposed to be one of my main duties. Now, none of the away team members will talk to me. And to top it off, Dr. Crusher's lackeys just blocked my going into sickbay to see the survivor you retrieved. I can hardly do my job if I'm not ..."

"All right, all right," Picard cut her off. "I felt it best that you not be informed of the situation. It is directly related to you and, frankly, I am concerned as to how you will react."

"You still think I'm a loose cannon," she looked at him in disgust. "Just tell me what's going on. If I go ballistic you can always sick Worf on me."

Picard wasn't the least certain "sicking" Worf on her would be effective, but he couldn't very well continue tiptoeing around her. If she was going to cause trouble, he might as well find out right now.

"Very well. We have discovered evidence that the settlement on Rigel 3 was a scientific installation engaged in illegal cloning operations."

"Cloning?" Shea waited for the punchline.

"They were cloning you," Picard finished.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." Then she did the last thing any of them expected. She started to laugh.

"You think it's funny?" Riker asked.

"Yes, I do. After all this time, nothing has changed. They're still up to the same old tricks. It's incredibly nostalgic."

"So you're not upset then?" Dr. Crusher asked cautiously.

Shea looked at them now through narrowed eyes, the amusement gone. "I didn't say that. So who blew up the settlement?"

"We don't know yet," Riker replied. "At this point we're open to theories."

"Maybe one of my clones?" She smiled at the thought, leaving the others somewhat chilled.

"Is that possible?" Picard asked turning toward Dr. Crusher.

"Not based on my examination."

Shea immediately picked up on that. "Your survivor is a clone of me?" Shea spun around and headed for the door. The others scrambled to their feet.

"Wait!" Picard shouted, but she ignored him. "Stop her!" Picard yelled to Worf, who immediately lunged at her. She was quicker, spinning away and knocking him aside before entering the turbolift.

"Security to sickbay!" Picard ordered as they jumped into the next turbolift along with Worf. The four ran down the corridor, meeting the Security Team on the way. Together they stormed into sickbay expecting the worst. They found Shea standing next to the biobed staring at her own likeness. She looked up at them curiously.

"You certainly are a tense group of people," she observed.

Picard turned to the Security Team and dismissed them.

Shea looked at the four remaining officers and asked, "So what do you intend to do with it?"

"It?" asked Riker, "Not, her?"

"It, Commander. It's just a shell. There's no one home." She tapped her knuckles irreverently on the figure's forehead. Then she added quietly, "There never is."

"You almost sound disappointed," Riker observed.

"Perhaps I am. It might be interesting to have a twin."

"Personally," interjected Captain Picard, "I think one is quite enough."

Shea laughed at that, then grew serious again, "I'd like permission to go down to the research facility and have a look around."

"Very well. Commander Riker will accompany you."

Hours later, still down on the planet, Shea kicked and poked at the charred rubble. Riker stood there dressed in a protective radiation suit watching her as she picked through the debris. She wore only her standard uniform insisting that the faint radiation presented little danger to her. She carefully examined each of the opened cylinders, taking tricorder readings, and collecting samples. No detail of the scene seemed too minute to attract her interest. Time stretched and Riker began to grow restless.

"We already examined this area thoroughly," he said.

"Did you now?"

"Yes, we did. Is there something you're specifically looking for?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Such as?" he asked. His exasperation was beginning to show.

She looked up innocently, "Answers, of course."

At that moment, Riker thought she had to be one of the most annoying women he'd ever met.

"Do you enjoy aggravating people?" he asked pointedly.

"I certainly do," she smiled engagingly at him and he quickly forgot his previous irritation. How could he possibly be annoyed with anyone who looked like that?

"I'd like to see where the land vehicle exploded," she stated, all business again.

He agreed and they transported to the second site. She went over each and every detail with the same methodical thoroughness as at the first site. Riker did his best to remain patient.

The Senior Staff gathered in the conference room the following day. Captain Picard wanted answers and he was about to get them. Data began by summarizing their findings.

"We were able to restore some of the files Commander Shea recovered from the laboratory computer. We now know there were a total of five researchers at the facility. The records used code names for identification purposes and there is no reference in any of the files as to who authorized the research. The records also show there were a total of five clones. Two of the destroyed cylinders evidenced trace readings of disintegrated tissue matching Shea's DNA, and one of the two bodies in the debris of the destroyed land vehicle was a clone. With one clone onboard that makes total of four clones accounted for. Thus we must conclude that there is still one clone missing."

"Did you determine the cause of vehicle's explosion?" Picard asked.

"Yes sir. A self-destruct mechanism. We believe that the cloning researcher was attempting to escape. When he realized he was about to be transported, he activated it intentionally."

"If only we could have communicated with them first..." Deanna started to say.

"It may not have changed anything, Deanna," Riker interrupted, "Considering the nature of their experiments, they wouldn't have wanted to see us either."

"If they were concerned with secrecy to the point of self-destruction, why did they send a distress signal?" Shea asked.

"They didn't," Picard answered, "The signal came from a Ferengi trading ship which was bringing them supplies. When they arrived, the attack was in progress."

"I take it they decided not to get involved," Riker surmised.

"Correct, but they did report it," Picard replied.

"So who were the attackers?" Riker asked.

"The Ferengi Damon said it was an unidentified Klingon warship," Picard answered.

"I find that difficult to believe," Worf objected gruffly. "It is far more likely that the Ferengis attacked the facility themselves. Klingons do not deal in human flesh. It is without honor. Ferengis have no such compunction. They care only for profit."

"I do not question your assessment, Commander Worf," Data responded, "but the radiation patterns are consistent with Klingon weapon arrays."

"If a Klingon ship did in fact attack the facility for the purpose of obtaining a clone, it would have to be for some reason other than profit. Perhaps a matter of honor?" Picard looked at Shea meaningfully.

"Perhaps," She acknowledged his meaning.

"Please continue, Mr. Data," Picard requested.

"The lab's records reveal that they were trying to overcome the prior problem by combining the clone's biological brain with a positronic linking device."

Picard interrupted, "Assuming the link worked, what would the clone be capable of?"

"In theory, whatever it was programmed to do by its operator," Data responded. "However, the link had never been fully tested."

"Just imagine... programmable me's. Isn't science wonderful?"

"How can you be so flippant?" Deanna asked.

"Just my way of dealing with the absurd," Shea responded, "Don't worry, if I ever meet one of my puppet duplicates, I won't hesitate to _de-activate_ it."

"Since a duplicate would in theory have your same abilities, that may not be a simple task," Data observed.

"Data, you have to remember that these clones are just empty headed shells. They might match me physically, but only that." Shea grew thoughtful. "However, a puppet clone could be used to discredit me or the Federation in some way. If whoever took this clone has that in mind, it might be a problem. On the other hand," she joked, "if I suddenly decide to do something really bizarre I can always blame it on my clone." Everyone smiled except the Captain and, of course, Data, who still had his emotion chip on 'off'. Data turned back to Captain Picard and continued.

"Additionally, sir, one member of the science team is missing. The records show there were five researchers but we have found the remains of only four. I have reason to believe the missing researcher may be Commander Bruce Maddox."

"Maddox? The same Maddox we stopped from taking you apart, Data?" Riker asked.

"Yes, sir," Data nodded.

"Who's this Maddox?" Shea asked him.

"Bruce Maddox is a noted cyberneticist and the Chair of Robotics at the Daystrom Institute of Technology. He is also an avid student of my creator, Dr. Noonian Soong. I have been in communication with him for some time and am familiar with his work. To my knowledge the only person other than myself capable of creating such a device would be Commander Maddox. I think it is reasonable to conclude that whoever took the missing clone also took him."

Picard nodded and frowned at the obvious conclusion that someone had kidnapped a top cybernetic scientist to activate a duplicate of Commander Shea - not a pleasant thought. He looked to his officers.

"Suggestions?" he asked.

"Captain, I'm always suspicious whenever the Ferengi are involved," Riker said thoughtfully. "Chances are they know more than they're telling. They're currently docked at Starbase 413 for repairs and supplies. A friendly little visit might be in order."

"Agreed," Picard nodded. "Let's proceed to Starbase 413 and see what we can learn."

That evening, Commander Riker strolled into Ten-Forward hoping to find Commander Shea there. He wasn't disappointed. She was sitting alone nursing a drink and watching the passing stars.

"Care for some company?" he asked.

She looked up at him and smiled, "A bit risky don't you think?"

"I'll take my chances," he smiled back and took a seat. After a few quiet moments had passed, he broke the silence. "It must be rough being so... unique."

"What's this all about, Commander?" she asked staring at the smoky red liquor she swirled in her glass, "sympathy for the devil?"

"That's an unkind comparison," he replied, "Surely that's not how you see yourself?"

"No, but right now, it's how the Captain sees me," she answered, then she looked directly into his eyes and gave him a sly smile, "Better be careful, Riker, he may be right." Just then she noticed Counselor Troi enter the room and immediately head in their direction. "Uh oh. Here comes your guardian angel."

"I don't need guarding," Riker stated emphatically.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Shea whispered suggestively. The implication wasn't lost on him. Then Troi was standing next to their table trying to look cheerfully casual.

"How nice to find you here, Shea. I've been looking forward to getting to know you better. May I join you?"

Riker tore his eyes away from Shea. He felt annoyed but used his polite voice. "Excuse me, Deanna, but we're in the middle of a conversation. Why don't you save your visit with Shea for another time?"

"I think now would be an excellent time," she looked at him meaningfully.

"I disagree," he answered. When she didn't move, he became more forceful. "Deanna, go away."

Deanna's dark eyes blazed angrily, but she turned and stalked off. Shea looked at Riker in surprise.

"Commander, I did promise the Captain I wouldn't fraternize with any of the crew."

"That doesn't mean we can't be friends," Riker said.

"Thanks. I appreciate the offer," she replied, "but I don't think that a platonic relationship with you is a viable alternative. Since it can't be more than that, it'll have to be nothing."

Shea rose from her chair and departed without a backward glance. As he watched her go, he came to the decision that _nothing _simply wasn't acceptable. He was just about ready to do something about it when he noticed Deanna staring balefully at him from across the room. She immediately stood up, marched over and sat herself in the empty seat before him.

"Will, you're playing with fire," she warned him.

Riker looked directly at her, but at the moment her lovely features hardly registered.

"Deanna, all I did was talk to her," he said irritably. "You're making too much of this."

"Don't try to con me, Will Riker," she pointed her finger accusingly, "I know you too well. I can sense what you're feeling. Can't you see that going after her is crazy? She's going to get you into a lot of trouble."

"Deanna, I'm a big boy," Riker's irritation was growing. "I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself, so please just mind your own business."

"And may I remind you, that as Counselor of this ship, this is my business," she stated firmly.

"Yeah, and maybe you're just jealous. We both agreed to pursue other interests, Deanna. I'm not interfering with your relationship with Worf so don't interfere in my personal life," he told her.

"Will, this goes beyond any personal feelings I might have," she said emphatically, "If I suspect you are succumbing to her charms, I'll have to report it to the Captain."

"You do whatever you have to, Counselor, and so will I!" Riker's eyes flashed angrily at her as he pushed away from the table and strode out of the room. He headed directly towards Shea's quarters. He only wanted to talk to her, he told himself, nothing was going to happen. He was just turning the corner when he ran into the Captain.

"Oh, hello, Number One," Picard smiled at him. "I was just about to go to the phaser range for some target practice. Care to join me?"

"Well, I uh..." Riker hesitated.

"Come on," Picard urged giving him a friendly slap on the arm, "Let's see if you can beat me for a change."

"Yes, sir," Riker agreed reluctantly. He took one last longing look in the direction in which he had been headed and then followed his captain.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When the _Enterprise_ arrived at Starbase 413 the following day, Dr. Crusher suggested to Captain Picard that Shea be given shore leave. He agreed and Shea was the first of several dozen crewmembers to transport down to the base. Shortly after, Picard and Riker also transported down, but they were not looking for relaxation or entertainment. They were looking for the Ferengi Damon.

After several inquiries as to Damon Torak's whereabouts followed by several wild goosechases, it became apparent that Torak was working hard to avoid them. They tried a more indirect approach and got word that he was hiding out in a disreputable entertainment lounge located in the seamier lower decks of the station. Entering the noisy bar, they pushed their way through a rough-looking mixed crowd representing a wide variety of humanoid races. Some were loud and obnoxiously drunk. A few sneered at the Starfleet uniforms with undisguised resentment. Scantily clad pleasure-women leered at them suggestively. Starfleet officers usually had more credits than they knew what to do with and these women would be happy to educate them. Riker leered back. Picard shot him a look of annoyance and Riker put his attention back on business.

Just as the two men were beginning to wonder if there was any chance of finding Damon Torak in the middle of this confusion, they came face-to-face with Commander Shea. Two tall healthy looking young men stood next to her, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Well, well. Captain, Commander," she greeted them in amusement, "I certainly didn't expect to see you in here."

"We're trying to locate Damon Torak. We heard he was here," Picard informed her crisply.

"Oh," she nodded. "He must be that ugly little fellow hiding in the back room. I thought he looked nervous. I don't think he wants to talk to you, and he has a couple of very nasty looking guards with him. Hold on a minute, I'll go with you."

Shea turned to the two men accompanying her and whispered something to each of them. They smiled and nodded looking satisfied. One handed her a passkey which she tucked into her waistband pocket, then she waved them on ahead. Picard and Riker tried not to react to what was obviously going on.

Shea gestured to the two officers, "I'll show you where he is." She cleared a path through the crowd ignoring catcalls and slapping away wayward hands. She stopped some distance from a door which said '_Private Party - Keep Out'_ and pointed, "I saw him go in there." On either side of the door stood two heavily armed Nausicaans.

Picard eyed the two guards. He hadn't seen a Nausicaan since one had stabbed him in the back shortly after he graduated from Starfleet Academy. He still had an artificial heart to show for it. It wasn't an experience he cared to repeat. Nausicaans were well-known both for their ill tempers and their formidable fighting abilities. Neither he nor Riker were armed. He was about to suggest they discreetly withdraw to consider their options when to his dismay, Shea marched ahead.

"What does she think she's doing?" he whispered angrily.

Shea reached for the door and one of the Nausicaans growled at her, "This is a private party. Can't you read?"

"Can't be much of a party - it's so quiet in there," Shea cocked her head as if listening. "Damon Torak must be bored to tears. How about if I just go in and liven things up a bit for him."

She again reached for the door. The Nausicaan snarled and grabbed for her wrist. Instead she caught his arm, twisted him round and slammed him into his companion. The two guards went down in a heap. The one on top reached for his weapon, but Shea was faster-knocking the blaster away and slamming the heel of her open hand into his face. His tusks crunched loudly as they broke off. Orange blood spewed from his broken nose and shattered mouth. He lashed out with his foot aiming for her stomach but found his leg caught in her grip. She gave it a sharp twist and was rewarded by a sickening crack. He screamed in pain.

Meanwhile, the other guard was fighting to free himself. He shoved his writhing companion off and lunged toward her with a foot-long serrated knife. She spun sideways, dodging the knife, and caught him under the chin with a well placed elbow. The blow crushed his windpipe and he went down with a strangled cry clutching at his throat. They didn't get up again. Shea turned back to Riker and Picard who looked at her in stunned amazement. The whole fight hadn't lasted more than 5 seconds.

"We can go in now," she said.

Picard glared at her for a moment, but decided to hold his tongue. He marched over and tried the door but found it bolted shut from the inside. He looked at it closely, "It doesn't appear particularly strong," he observed, "A little force would probably do the trick."

"Careful, sir," Riker cautioned, "Torak may have more guards inside or be armed himself."

"Neither," Shea replied, "He's alone and terrified."

"Now how do you know that?" Picard demanded.

Shea grabbed a hunk of the sensory tendrils which served her in place of hair and waved it at him. "Trust me. I know."

"Very well," he replied and exchanged a look with his first officer. He picked up the fallen Nausicaan's blaster and aimed it at the door when the blue-skinned proprietor of the establishment came rushing up accompanied by a large fur-covered bouncer.

"Stop right there!" he yelled, "This is private property."

"We need to get inside," Picard told him, "Open it or I will."

The proprietor gestured to his companion and the lumbering giant stepped toward Picard menacingly. In the fraction of a second that it took Riker to tense his muscles, Shea jumped in front of the Captain and let out a thundering feral roar startling the creature into backing away. It took a long look at her, at the bleeding Nausicaans on the floor and the blaster in Picard's hand, then shook its furry head and lumbered off. The proprietor looked at them angrily, then scampered after his recalcitrant employee.

Picard smiled a little then turned back to the door and fired the blaster melting the hinges and lock. He nudged the door with his foot and watched as it fell neatly inward. Damon Torak was cowering in the back corner. Picard walked over to Torak's hunched figure looking down at him with obvious distaste. He pointed the blaster at the floor and spoke in a polite diplomatic tone.

"Damon Torak, I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the _U.S.S. Enterprise._ I trust that you are unharmed? We heard that you were being held against your will and came to offer our assistance."

Torak blinked at him in surprise for a moment then smiled with his sharp jagged teeth. "Why, yes. Thank-you, Captain. How valiant of you. However can I repay you for rescuing me?"

"Well, Damon, now that you mention it. You may be able to provide us with some information."

"Of course, of course." Damon Torak was beginning to regain his sly expression, then he noticed Shea standing behind Picard and Riker. "You have a clone?" he exclaimed then realizing his error he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Picard smiled, "It would seem that you have a great deal of information, indeed. What exactly do you know about the cloning experiments on Rigel 3?"

"Experiments? I don't know anything about any experiments," Torak simpered, still crouching.

Picard pointed to Shea. "Do you see this woman, Torak? She's not a clone. She's the original article and she's quite unhappy about this whole affair. In fact, she's become so irritable that she just about killed those two Nausicaans outside. Perhaps Commander Riker and I should leave and let the two of you get better acquainted."

Shea smiled wickedly and approached Torak with her razor-sharp claws fully extended for his appreciation. Torak cowered back into the corner again. "Wait!" he called to Picard and Riker as they turned their backs to go. "I'm sure we can work this out."

"I'm listening." Picard waited while Torak slowly emerged from his corner and attempted to regain some of his dignity.

"Anything to assist the Federation, Captain," Torak bowed slightly, then stood straight again. He still had to crane his neck to look up at the two men who towered over him. "We quite_ accidentally_ found out about the experiments during one of our supply deliveries to Rigel 3. Naturally, we felt it could be valuable information. I approached the Dagtah Family- you may have heard of them, they're fairly high up in the Klingon hierarchy. I offered them my services for a reasonable sum. I should have known better than to deal with Klingons. They're anything but reasonable as I'm sure you're aware. They insisted on investigating the facility themselves. I never anticipated that they would take such a violent approach. I assure you, Captain, it came as a complete surprise. I was as dismayed as I'm sure you were yourself."

"Yes, I'm sure," Picard said dryly, "How upsetting for you. I hope you were paid handsomely for your trouble."

"On the contrary, Captain. They reneged on their agreement. They never paid us one gram of latinum!" Torak stated indignantly.

"Ah!" Picard nodded, "Now I understand why you reported the attack. And can you tell us the name of the Captain and the identity of the ship, Torak?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, but they remained cloaked, except during the actual attack of course, and at that point I didn't wait around to discuss it. We never saw the Captain or the ship's ID. They were very careful."

"I see," Picard nodded, not sure if he believed him, but he was unwilling to make any further threats, "Thank you for your assistance, Damon." Picard turned to leave.

"Captain," Torak stopped him, "I trust that my revealing this information to you will not reach the ears of the Dagtah's. Some unpleasant threats were made."

"Perhaps you should be more careful in choosing your business associates," Picard said coldly, "If you discover anything further on this subject, contact me. I assure you that the Federation does not renege on its agreements."

The three officers left Torak behind and re-entered the main bar area. The only evidence remaining of Shea's confrontation with the Nausicaans was a smear of orange blood on the floor. Apparently, the proprietor had been busy cleaning up. He stood glaring at them from a safe distance.

"You can send us a bill," Riker informed him with a smile then they pushed their way back through the crowd and out the exit to the relative quiet of the exterior corridor.

"Thank you for your assistance, Commander," Picard addressed Shea, "but next time kindly wait upon my orders."

"Sorry," she replied, "Guess I kind of jumped the gun there. Still it worked out well, didn't it? Would the two of you care to join me in a celebration-somewhere a little more respectable?"

Riker smiled at the invitation but Picard cut him off, "No, thank you. We must be getting back and you obviously had other plans."

"I'd be happy to change them," she offered.

"No," Picard responded firmly almost to the point of rudeness.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged and pulled out the passkey from her waistband, "See you later."

Picard and Riker watched her go. "Captain..." Riker started to complain. Picard cut him off. "Forget it, Number One," he said and strode off with Riker following reluctantly. Together they returned to the ship. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two men as they rode the turbolift to the bridge. Riker sought to ease the tension.

"That was pretty amazing the way she dealt with those Nausicaans, wasn't it?" he said conversationally.

"Yes," Picard agreed, then added with a viciousness that shocked them both, "Still think she'd be fun in bed?"

Riker just stared at him for a moment, then fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Picard looked away, embarrassed. Why the hell did he say that?


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Over the next few days Picard's senior staff debated how they should proceed based on the information gotten from Torak. Cross checking with Worf's Klingon information sources corroborated that the Dagtah family had commandeered a warship during the time in question. Their best guess was that the Dagtah's had been the attackers. Unfortunately, there was little they could do directly with the information since the attack was on an illegal facility. Starfleet promised Picard that an investigation would be conducted by the Internal Security Division, by which he surmised that the entire affair would be buried. It offended him to drop the matter, but he knew he would get no support pursuing it. He wasn't a fool. He backed off. The price was putting up with Shea's occasional biting comments. He ignored them as best he could.

Meanwhile, Riker was doing his best as well. He kept away from Shea for the most part. Unfortunately, their duties often brought them into close proximity and his good intentions weakened a little with every shared moment. Deanna kept a watchful eye on him and he felt it like a hand on a leash holding him back.

He was taking a stroll through the ship's arboretum on an off-duty hour mulling over his conflicting emotions. It was one of the more peaceful areas on the ship, filled with green trees and plants, mostly from Earth but with a few alien specimens thrown in for interest. He especially enjoyed the fresh scent of the densely forested area he was walking through at the moment. It reminded him of an Alaskan rainforest near his home when he was a boy. All that was needed were a few bald eagles, he thought to himself.

He noticed a pair of bare feet in the dark shadows of a large dense tree just ahead. He walked over ducking under a sagging branch that obscured his view of the person they belonged to.

"Hello, Commander," Shea greeted him, "Out for a stroll?"

"Um...yes," Riker said, surprised to see the subject of his thoughts in front of him, "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." He started to leave.

"You're not disturbing me," she replied, "On the contrary, I would enjoy some company. See this?" she held up a large deep red flower with a long slender blue stamen and velvety emerald-colored leaves, "I remember it from the planet where I first met people from Earth. Lovely, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, but he was referring more to the blood red color of her lips and the emerald-green of her eyes than to the comparable ones of the flower.

"Please, sit with me, Commander," she invited him patting the ground.

He should go, he thought. Instead, he sat down beside her in the shade.

"I read the report on how they found you in that forest," Riker said. "Do you remember anything before that?"

"No, I only remember waking up one day in a shady spot very much like this one."

"Must be kind of sad not having any history, any family," he said sympathetically.

"Sometimes ignorance is bliss," she said, "Family relationships can be... difficult."

"True," he agreed, reflecting on his own strained relationship with his father, "but they have their rewards as well."

Shea made no reply and they fell into silence. He watched her for a moment then decided to ask her about something that had been bothering him for a long time.

"Commander," Riker looked at her closely, "whenever I'm with you I get the feeling we've met before. I know it's irrational because I'd certainly remember if we ever had, but I just can't shake the feeling. For some reason, you seem... familiar."

"That's very perceptive of you, Commander," she smiled, "I didn't expect you to recognize me."

"Then we have met!" he said feeling vindicated, "but why can't I recall it?"

"Because I didn't look like this and I didn't use my own name and the circumstances were unusual to say the least," she laughed at his puzzled expression. "Do you remember the Binars?"

"Sure, those little people who always work in two's," Riker nodded, "A few years ago, a pair tricked the Captain and me by distracting us with a holographic program while they took over the ship. Turned out they were only trying to save their own world but they gave us a pretty good scare. We came close to destroying the _Enterprise_ ourselves thinking it had fallen into enemy hands. An interesting event, but what does it have to do with us?"

"Do you remember the program they used?" she was smiling with amusement.

"Oh yes. There was a woman in it named Minuet who was especially memorable. I practically fell in love with..." Riker stopped and stared at her, "You're Minuet?" She nodded. "How?" he asked.

"Since I was the only human they knew, the Binars asked me to help them come up with a way to distract you. I wrote the program for them and while it ran, I was connected through a sub-space link running a mirror program at my end. I altered my appearance, of course, and gave myself a different name, but it was me coming through. It sounded like it would be fun," she laughed at his amazed expression, "And I got to meet you and the Captain."

"So that's why you wanted to be on the _Enterprise?_" he asked.

"In part."

"Does Capt. Picard know?" Riker asked.

"No," she shook her head, "You plan to tell him?"

Riker shook his head back at her and laughed gently, "I don't think he'd like it very much."

"And how about you?"

"I'm not sure," he said after a moment, "At least it explains why I could never make the holodeck produce Minuet again."

"Did you try very many times, Commander?" She peered at him through her thick lashes. He looked away with some discomfort. "I think you did. Did you really fall in love with Minuet... or should I say, with me?" she asked softly.

He smiled in embarrassment. "I always felt a little foolish about it. Imagine falling for a hologram. I guess I don't have feel so stupid anymore."

"So how do you feel now?" she asked.

"I feel as if I'm treading very dangerous waters," he said looking at her. "I should leave."

"Probably so," she agreed. She held his gaze and he didn't move.

"Getting involved with each other wouldn't be smart," he said softly.

"You're right," she replied.

"I could get into a lot of trouble." Still looking into her eyes he reached over and brushed a silky strand from her face, "if we... did anything." They were just inches apart.

He closed the small gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. Almost of their own accord, his arms slid around her and he pressed her back down onto the soft brown leaves. For a brief moment he wondered how much privacy this tree's shadow would afford, and then he stopped caring.

Over the next few months, there were no further developments in the Rigel 3 matter. The clone remained in suspended animation for future study and research by Dr. Crusher. Captain Picard thought that was pretty much the end of the matter as far as his ship's involvement was concerned. Shea went about her business and didn't seem to be causing any trouble much to his relief. He knew she was in communication with Starfleet Intelligence by virtue of the relay activity logs but as to the content he had no information.

On three separate occasions, a military ship rendezvoused with the _Enterprise_ and whisked her away on some secret mission to which he was not privy. She returned each time without comment. It was disconcerting having these clandestine operations going on right under his nose, but as there seemed little to be done about it, he tried hard to push it from his mind.

The _Enterprise_ maintained a now regular schedule of docking at a space station about every three weeks for the express purpose of granting her a brief shore leave. He probably wouldn't have minded so much if weren't for the fact that on those occasions, Riker seemed especially irritable. He tried to overlook that too.

Most of all he tried to minimize his contact with the Commander. He found her presence on board generally uncomfortable and he longed for the days before her arrival when he had felt in complete control of what went on aboard his own ship_._

One evening while he sat in his quarters reflecting on how Shea's presence had affected ship operations, his thoughts were interrupted by a disagreeably familiar voice.

"I've been watching you, Picard."

"Q!"

"I just love the way you always greet me with such alarm. The way I pop in and out of your life, you'd think you'd be used to it by now." Q hovered in mid-air eyes closed, legs crossed lotus-style with his hands resting on his knees, palms up. "I've been meditating on your predicament and I've come to some interesting conclusions. Would you like to hear?"

"No, I would not," Picard snapped. He knew better than to offer Q any encouragement. Expressing the slightest interest in anything this incredibly powerful but highly unpredictable lifeform had to say was inviting disaster.

"Oh, but _mon Capitan_, of course you do," Q smiled confidently, "It has to do with your lovely Commander. Wouldn't you like to know who she really is and why she's really here?"

Picard could no longer feign disinterest, "What do you know about it?"

"Everything, of course. I am omnipotent after all."

"If you have something to tell me, then get on with it," Picard said irritably.

"Now what would be the fun in that? But I might help you discover it for yourself. Yes," he said thoughtfully, "that would be much more interesting."

"I see," Picard turned away, "You're just here to play games again. Well, I'm not interested."

"You can't fool me, Picard. You're very interested. In fact, she's all you can think about. You wake up each morning wondering what she's doing, spend the day trying not to run into her, and fall asleep each night wishing you had. You are a sorry piece of work, Picard. I don't know why I worry over you so."

"Please feel free to relieve yourself of that concern. I do not appreciate your interest in my affairs."

"But that's just it. You don't have any affairs... too wrapped up in duty and responsibility," Q shook his head, clucking his tongue, "So sad. There she is, one of the most desirable women in the known universe, well at least by human standards, just waiting for you to show the slightest bit of interest and you do nothing. Pitiful, absolutely pitiful."

"Don't be ridiculous, Q. She's not interested in me personally. If I weren't the Captain of this ship, she'd never give me a second glance."

"But you are the Captain. After all humans are what they do. It's certainly true in your case. There's obviously a mutual attraction going on here. Why do you resist?"

"For one thing, I don't trust her. I suspect she may have sabotaged the ship's computer just so she could play the heroine."

"Actually, you can thank me for setting off that little crisis," Q confessed, "I wanted you to see her in action. I thought it might help you get over your suspicions. Believe me she had no part in putting you in danger. She's not even aware of my involvement."

"Why are you so interested in this, Q?" Q just smiled. Picard grew angrier. "Q, what is it you want?"

"Merely to help you find the courage to do what you really want to do," Q bounced his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"I think not. That kind of help I can do without. Please go."

Q still hovered before him smiling that incredibly annoying smile of one who is well convinced of his innate superiority. He obviously wasn't through yet. "You know," Q said thoughtfully, "you could learn a lot from your first officer. Now there's a man who knows a good thing when he sees it. You won't find him moping about in his quarters all alone. No, not him - he's thoroughly enjoying himself even as we speak. Too bad you're missing out." Q laughed derisively much to Picard's chagrin. With a snap he disappeared.

So Riker was having an affair with Shea. Or at least, Q wanted him to think so. Reluctantly, Picard admitted to himself that it was probably true. He had been turning a blind eye to Riker's mood swings and distractions. He hadn't wanted to know. He was suddenly filled with a disproportionate rage. How dare Riker ignore his direct order? Had the man lost his reason? Picard tried to calm himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected someone on board to step out of line with her... but why did it have to be his Number One? He knew he shouldn't have trusted that woman, no matter what she had promised.

If he reported the infraction to Starfleet, it could easily jeopardize Riker's career and perhaps even his own since it would be an admission that he couldn't control the situation. Was that the real reason he felt so upset? If he reported it, perhaps Shea would finally be transferred elsewhere. That's what he wanted, right? Or was it? He didn't want to think about it. The whole thing was preposterous. He told himself he could hardly take any action based on insinuating comments from Q, a most unreliable source of information. He buried his turmoil somewhere deep inside, telling himself that he had no proof, no proof at all, and at his heart of hearts he didn't want any.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As the days passed, Picard's relationship with Riker gradually deteriorated to the point where they could barely exchange a civil word. Counselor Troi viewed their growing enmity with alarm and tried numerous times to get them to discuss it. Each denied there was a problem. Deanna knew better. She also knew the problem had a name.

"Shea!" Troi called out to her in the corridor, "I have to talk to you."

Shea stopped and regarded Deanna's concerned expression. She smiled sweetly, but her voice was like ice, "I have a better idea... why don't you just stay out of it." Shea turned her back and left the shocked Counselor standing in the middle of the hallway. Deanna tried to collect her wits.

If the three involved parties in this dispute refused to discuss the problem with her, how else could she intervene? _That's it_! she thought. Maybe the Captain wouldn't listen to her, but there was someone on board that he would listen to...Guinan! She headed to Ten Forward where she found Guinan at her usual station behind the bar.

"Guinan, I need your help. No, let me rephrase that, the Captain needs your help. Actually, Riker needs help, too."

Guinan looked at her curiously, "Counselor, what are you talking about?"

Deanna proceeded to tell Guinan her concerns about the growing conflict between Picard and Riker, as well as her suspicions that Shea was at the center of it.

"Let me get this straight," Guinan sighed, "You think that Riker and Shea are ignoring this non-fraternization rule, that Picard knows and is angry about it, and you think I'm the one who make them all be friends again."

"Well, yes," Deanna nodded.

"I really don't think I should get involved," Guinan stated. "And if you want my advice, you should stay out of it, too."

"That's what Shea said."

"Smart lady, listen to her."

"Guinan, I can't believe that you of all people would take such a cavalier attitude about this. I'm telling you that she is undermining their relationship. The Captain and his first officer set the mood for the entire crew. If they're at odds with each other, it filters down through the whole ship. I can't just stand by and watch, and I can't believe you can either."

"Deanna, I know you're worried. It's not that I don't agree there's a problem, I just don't think you or I can fix it."

"At least we should try."

"No, we shouldn't."

"I don't understand your attitude."

Guinan sighed heavily, then spoke very carefully and very softly so that no one else could hear, "There's more going on here than meets the eye. It's just a feeling I have but I learned long ago to rely on my feelings. We only see three persons here, but I sense they aren't the only ones involved."

"I'm not sure I know what or who you're talking about."

"I'm not sure either. I just know better than to step into the middle. It would only make things worse. Please trust me on this."

Deanna reluctantly took Guinan's advice, deciding to take a hands-off approach unless things became critical. The tension continued like a strong undercurrent, but there were no surface explosions.

Meanwhile, Q continued to whisper in Picard's ear nearly driving him to distraction. Picard told no one. Unless Q did something which affected the security of the ship, there was no point in reporting that he was being personally harassed. Also he had no desire to share the subject matter of Q's unsolicited commentary.

After one particularly aggravating episode with Q, Picard decided he had to talk to someone. He went to Ten Forward. Guinan had always been very sensitive to Q. If anyone could figure out what he was up to, it would be her. He asked to meet with her in private, then told her of Q's visits. He refrained from going into detail but let her know that Q seemed particularly interested in Shea.

"Is he pushing you to get involved with her?" she asked.

"Yes, how did you know?"

Guinan just shook her head and said, "I hope you're not going to take his advice."

"No, of course not," Picard replied, "but I can't get rid of him. He just keeps at it no matter what I say."

Guinan looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then she said, "Okay, the next time he comes to you, ask him this, 'Does he know what you're doing?'"

"What does that mean?"

"Just ask him," Guinan insisted and said no more.

Picard didn't place much faith in Guinan's question, but there was no reason not to ask it. A few days later, when Q appeared again in his quarters with his insinuating remarks, Picard posed the question.

"Does he know what you are doing, Q?"

Q stopped cold, his face went slack in surprise, "What?"

The question was obviously having an effect. Picard repeated it carefully. Q took on a distinctly desperate look.

"Was he here? Did he ask about me?" he whispered. As Picard had no idea who they were talking about, he chose not to answer. "Don't listen to him, Picard. He's not your friend. He's worse than I, oh yes, much worse-and far more dangerous." Picard was amazed at Q's panic stricken face. "He's so very old you know, older than the Continuum itself. We thought all the Old Ones had gone into oblivion, but not him. He was only slumbering. Something woke him and we've all been tip-toeing around ever since hoping not to catch his attention."

"But if he's like you, he must know everything already." Picard prodded hoping he was going in the right direction.

"No, not like me, not like the Q. Different, darker, older, much older," Q paused then went on, "We may be all knowing, but only if we're paying attention. To put it in terms you can understand, it's like being in a crowded room filled with voices. You can hear them all, but you can only pay attention to a few at a time. The question is, is he paying attention?" Q looked worriedly around him.

"How can he be older than the Q-Continuum, when if I understand it correctly, the Q began with the beginning of time?" Picard asked.

"Do you remember when Trelane, one of the younger members of the Continuum, went mad because he tapped into the Chaos at the center of the multi-universes? The Old Ones were born of the Chaos. They predate time itself."

"Is he mad then like Trelane?"

Q shrugged, "I certainly don't want to find out. Forgive me, Captain, but I think I'll be going now."

With that, Q disappeared in a flash of light much to Picard's relief. Although he had found Q's dissertation on the nature of the 'Old Ones' disturbing, he was very pleased that the result was Q's prolonged absence. Days went by with no visit from his tormentor. Picard had just about found his equilibrium once again, then Q popped back one evening while Picard was practicing alone in the phaser range.

"What do you want now, Q?" Picard lowered his phaser watching the lighted target speed by unchallenged.

"Just checking up on you." Q pointed a finger and the target shattered, "So, how's your romance with Commander Shea going?"

"There is no romance," Picard said emphatically.

"Still?" Q frowned at him. "What incredibly stubborn short-sighted little creatures you humans are. Can't you just imagine a future with her. She could make you a very happy man, Picard. What's the matter with you?"

"Perhaps I prefer the future you already showed me."

"Oh yes, the one in which you end up marrying Dr. Crusher. If you recall, you also end up divorced and alone, a used up old man suffering from a degenerative brain disorder. Even now I can see the disease forming in your cells eager to begin eating at those synaptic pathways. I can certainly understand why you'd prefer that scenario."

Picard agreed it had a certain lack of appeal but he could hardly give Q the satisfaction.

"Perhaps some things are unavoidable," was all he said.

"Are they?" Q asked. "The future is constantly evolving, Picard. When I showed you that one possible future, you hadn't even met Shea yet. You obviously find her attractive, you're not quite dead yet. What's holding you back?"

"My career for one thing."

"What, can't keep your mind on two things at once? That doesn't seem to be a problem for Commander Riker or for Admiral Conners, for that matter."

"What has Conners got to do with it?"

"Oh come now, Captain. Haven't you noticed that every time Shea has shore leave, the Admiral just happens to be there?"

"You're making that up."

"No, I'm not. Check the records."

With a snap of Q's fingers, Picard found himself in the Main Computer Library at Earth Command Central.

"Go ahead, check," Q said with a smug smile.

Picard called up the records. It was true. Conners had beat them to every scheduled stop and stayed until they departed on each occasion.

"Told you," Q said snapping his fingers again. They stood once more in the darkened phaser range. "So now you know. It was all a ploy. He lied to you about losing your command if you succumbed."

Picard's mind whirled, torn between anger at Conners' deceit and at Q's transparent attempts to manipulate him.

"It doesn't matter," he said finally, "You can stop playing matchmaker. I'm never going to involve myself with her. There are a hundred other reasons why it would never work."

"Name one."

"Apparently, she's involved with Riker."

"She knows how to handle multiple relationships. It's no barrier for her."

Picard shook his head in disgust, "I'd never agree to it."

"You'd get over it. Name another."

"This is ludicrous!"

"Out of objections already?" Q taunted.

"Hardly," Picard snapped at him, searching for a response, "I'm too old for her," he blurted.

"Oh that's right... you're old enough to be, what, her great grandson?"

"All right then, have it your way...she's too old for me."

"She's not nearly as old as Guinan (who I think is absolutely horrid) and you like her."

"Guinan and I are just very good friends. Besides, I trust her."

"Well, I don't know what you see in that creature," Q said in annoyance, "She only shows one side of herself to you, but she can be very dangerous. Sometimes I wonder why she's so nice to you."

"Maybe it's because of a kindness I once did her. I recently learned that our first meeting actually took place in the 19th Century during a time travel experience of mine. That meeting formed the basis of our friendship."

"Time travel?" Q's eyes lit up, "but I digress. Let's get back to the subject at hand - your relationship with Shea."

"Let it go, Q." Picard was thoroughly exasperated.

Q watched him for a moment, then started in again.

"Captain, are you aware that prolonged contact with the Commander has certain _curative_ powers?" Q saw the flicker in Picard's eyes and pushed a little harder, "She could even give you the one thing you've always wanted but denied yourself all these years." Q leaned over and hissed in his ear, "Children!"

The image of Commander Shea as a doting mother struck Picard as so preposterous that he burst out laughing. "Q, you've outdone yourself. What a ridiculous concept! To think I could ever choose someone as calloused and cold-blooded as that-whatever she is-to be the mother of my children is beyond belief. I wouldn't trust her to care for a claw-toed Gregorian tree-rat let alone a small helpless child."

Q looked stunned, then assumed his most pious demeanor. "You wrong her most grievously, sir. What must I do to show you the error of your ways?" Raising an insolent eyebrow, he added, "It would be simpler if you just took my word for it."

"You're hardly someone I would look to for a character reference. Come to think of it the two of you have a lot in common. You're both pompous, self-righteous, vicious and sarcastic. No wonder you're so enamored of her. Maybe you should be the one courting her."

Q hissed at him, "Don't say things like that. The other Q could be listening, not to mention him."

Picard looked about. "Him who?"

"Him, him!"

"You mean the _Old One_?"

Q rolled his eyes upward in exasperation, and before Picard could question him further, disappeared in a blink of light. Picard gave up his target practice. This latest discussion with Q puzzled him even more. He decided another meeting with Guinan was in order and headed to Ten Forward.

"Guinan, I've just had another conversation with Q," he began when he cornered Guinan in the bar area, "Q implied that there's some connection between his interest in Shea and someone he refers to as the 'Old One'."

Guinan's eyes grew very wide and she leaned away from him a bit. "Captain, this is not a good subject for conversation," she whispered at him, "I'm not going to talk to you about this. Forget what Q told you, forget what I told you. Don't even think about it!" She picked up a tray of drinks and marched off determinedly. Picard had never seen her so adamant. He had always respected her advice and tried to resolve himself to not pursuing the matter further, at least for the moment.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A special assignment for Shea came in from Starfleet command delivered by none other than Admiral Conners in person. This time her mission would involve the _Enterprise_ as well. A meeting was called in the main conference room. All senior staff were present and accounted for except the Commander herself.

"Where the devil is she?" Picard demanded.

"Probably down in the children's play area again," Worf growled, "She has kept my security teams waiting for specialized training on two separate occasions!"

"What would she be doing down there?" Picard asked.

"She likes to entertain the children," Deanna volunteered, "She says it helps her not miss her own so much."

"Her own?" he asked in disbelief.

"She has three grown children," Riker informed him matter-of-factly.

Picard's face dropped dramatically, "I had no idea." He felt a small part of his resolve soften slightly. He quickly stiffened it again. "Ridiculous," he muttered.

"Excuse me, sir?" Riker asked.

"Never mind, Number One. Get her in here, we're wasting time."

Riker summoned her immediately and a few moments later Shea appeared and took a seat with the rest. Picard avoided her gaze and gave Conners a nod to begin the briefing.

It was a matter of diplomacy, Admiral Conners explained. Involving the long ago disappearance of the Sacred Sword of Kahless the Unforgettable. Picard felt alarms going off in his head as he listened to Conners describe the events that had led to Shea's incarceration in a Klingon prison all those years ago. This must be the real reason why the Federation wanted Shea on this ship. The theft of sword had long been a sore point between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. It had disappeared 98 years ago just prior to a dedication ceremony which was to be attended by a delegation of Federation Goodwill Ambassadors in an attempt to solidify a temporary ceasefire between the two warring governments.

The Klingons blamed the disappearance at first on Starfleet in general and finally on the then Lieutenant Shea in particular. Recommencement of the war between the two civilizations was narrowly avoided. Starfleet's diplomatic efforts had finally won out prolonging the cease fire for another two years. Picard knew that the price for that respite was Shea's imprisonment, a fact Conners failed to mention in his dissertation. The Sword had never been found and now that the Klingon High Counsel had learned of Shea's return, they demanded that the issue finally be resolved.

Conners admitted privately that Starfleet now knew that Shea had not been the party responsible for the Sword's disappearance, but a public admission could lead directly to the fact that the real culprit had been one of their highest ranking officers. Though long since dead, the revelation would still be a major source of embarrassment. To continue the deception as well as to promote goodwill, it would be necessary for Shea to find the Sword and return it, and for that they had a plan.

"Now let me get this straight," Shea finally interrupted his explanation of Starfleet's plan, "You want me to jump into the past through the Guardian of Forever to the moment Admiral Saunders stole the Sword and try to figure out where he hid the stupid thing. Then, assuming I am successful at this and return safely, I get to retrieve the Sword in this time period and deliver it at a ceremony before the Klingon High Counsel where I shall publicly humiliate myself by apologizing for stealing it in the first place, which of course I never did. Does that about sum things up?"

"Essentially...yes," Conners smiled tentatively, "You must understand that this is a delicate matter involving not only the honor of the Klingon Empire but Starfleet's reputation as well."

"And what about mine?" Shea pointed an accusatory finger in Conner's face "You can tell your friends at Headquarters that I'm not covering for them anymore. I did my part, more than my part. There is no way I'm going to apologize for something I never did. If anybody deserves an apology around here, it's me!" With that Shea stormed out of the conference room.

Admiral Conners looked particularly embarrassed. "Captain may we continue this discussion alone?"

Picard nodded to the remaining members of his staff and they vacated the room.

"Thank you," Conners said and continued. "I know this seems patently unfair, but it is absolutely vital that we convince Shea to go along with this. The House of Dagtah is pushing for a return to the old ways. Gowron is close to losing his position as leader of the High Counsel. If the Sword is returned with a public apology from Shea, Gowron's position will be strengthened. We can't risk the Dagtahs coming into power. Peace with the Federation would be the first thing to go."

Picard considered a moment then said, "Admiral, I agree that this is a serious situation, but I also agree with the Commander that she has already done more than her share. Perhaps it is time for Starfleet to admit that an injustice was done and reveal the name of the actual perpetrator of this crime."

"Do you really think that the Klingon honor would be satisfied by our telling them we've been lying this entire time and that the Sword was really stolen by the Chief of Starfleet Internal Affairs, who is now conveniently dead and unable to reveal its location?"

"No, I suppose not."

"You bet not. The Dagtah will have a field day with it. Gowron would be out and we'd probably be at war within a week!"

"How could Starfleet have let Shea take the blame for this in the first place?" Picard asked.

"At first they really thought she'd done it," Conners said sincerely, "By the time the truth came out, she was gone. There was no point in causing further dissension."

"Shea's convinced Starfleet knew of her innocence from the beginning."

"Well, Saunders certainly did, and since he was in charge of the investigation it was a simple matter for him to manufacture some incriminating evidence and convince Starfleet of her guilt. We may never know who all was involved, but now none of that matters," Conners spoke urgently, "Our present concern is to prevent a full scale war. We can't let our personal feelings prevent us from seeing the big picture here. You've got to help me convince her it's the right thing to do."

"Very well," Picard nodded, "Computer, where is Commander Shea?"

"Commander Shea is in Holodeck 2," the computer replied with its usual efficiency.

"I'm going to ask my first officer to join us. He and the Commander have become... close. His assistance may prove valuable."

Picard explained the situation to Riker and together the three men made their way to Holodeck 2. Shea was running one of her personal programs, which turned out to be a recreation of San Francisco Bay. They stared out across the shimmering expanse, but there was no sign of her.

"What's that?" Conners pointed to something leaping out of the water.

"Dolphins," Riker stated, "She likes to swim with them."

"Well, I suppose we can wait till she comes up for air," Picard commented.

"Actually, sir, she may not come up until the program is over," Riker smiled, "That's what that second pair of lungs is for."

Picard scowled at him, then addressed the computer, "How long is this program scheduled to run?"

"Two hours 30 minutes."

"Can she actually go that long without surfacing?" Picard asked Riker.

"Easily."

Picard tapped his communicator, "Commander Shea, this is Capt. Picard. Please acknowledge." No response, he tried again, nothing.

"I doubt she's wearing her comlink, sir," Riker informed him.

"We can't just wait around for two and a half hours, Captain," Conners said impatiently, "Shut it down."

"That could prove somewhat dangerous," Picard cautioned him.

"Shea's a cat, she'll land on her feet. Turn it off."

"Very well. Computer, end program."

Immediately, the recreation of the Golden Gate Bridge, the sea and the blue horizon faded from view and was replaced by the grid of the holodeck. They caught a glimpse of Shea upside down in mid-air. She immediately flipped herself over landing lightly on her feet.

"Told you," Conners said smugly.

She stood there naked, dripping and glaring at them. Picard paused at the sight, then looked at his companions who were both smiling.

"Go away!" she growled at them, "Computer, restart program."

"Belay that, Captain's override!" Picard could be equally stubborn, "We need to talk to you... Now!"

"Don't waste your breath, I won't do it."

"Admiral Conners informs me that if you do not, there is a very good chance that the male head of the House of Dagtah will become the new leader of the Klingon High Council."

"Dagtah?"

"Yes," Conners told her, "If their man leads the Council, the Peace Treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire will become a worthless piece of paper."

"If you're so upset about this, why don't you go back in time and find this precious Sword?"

"I'd be happy to volunteer," Riker offered.

"Maybe Captain Picard should go," Shea lit up at the idea, "Yes, it should be you, Captain."

Picard looked at her strangely, "I hardly think that would be appropriate."

"No, of course it wouldn't," Conners told her firmly, "This is a delicate matter requiring someone of your abilities who can avoid detection. Time travel is a very dangerous undertaking."

Picard agreed, "There is the risk of altering the timeline."

Shea sighed, "There you go with that timeline stuff again?"

"Again?" Picard responded, not following.

"Oh right. Never mind." She paused to think. "Okay, what if..? What if I agree to get you the Sword, but then you give it back to them?"

"No, it is imperative that you present it and apologize publicly," Conners insisted. "Anything less won't satisfy them."

Shea looked at Picard, "You really think I should try this stunt, Captain?"

Picard nodded, "Yes, I'm sorry, but I do."

Shea sighed, "All right then. I'll do it. Now get out or you're all going for a swim."


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Two days later, the _Enterprise_ arrived at the planet which was referred to only by its nickname, Forever World. It appeared on no starchart being the subject of the most intense security Starfleet had to offer. Its coordinates had been logged directly into the _Enterprise_ computer which had been simultaneously programmed to deny any information regarding their destination to anyone who might inquire including the Captain himself. Picard despised being kept in the dark.

On the day of their arrival, Shea emerged from Dr. Crusher's sickbay a new woman-a Klingon woman to be exact. She met Picard, Riker, Conners, Data and Worf in the conference room for a final briefing before transporting down to the planet. Worf noted her Klingon forehead ridges and dark dyed hair and shook his head in disgust.

Shea was just as annoyed and still grumbling, "I can't believe I've agreed to this. I'm almost as ugly as he is," she jabbed a thumb in Worf's direction. He growled softly. She ignored him, "All this for a rusty old piece of metal that probably never even belonged to Kahless anyway... assuming he ever existed in the first place."

With that last comment, Worf nearly came unglued and was very close to launching himself across the table at her. Shea leaned forward and looked him square in the eye.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Klingon. I could take you out like _that_!" she said, snapping her fingers in his face. Worf came up roaring.

"Worf!" Captain Picard's booming voice of authority stopped his security officer cold. "Contain yourself. As for you Commander, you will cease from baiting Mr. Worf. Such behavior is unwarranted, counter-productive and will not be tolerated."

The two sat back down into their seats. Shea relaxed leaning backwards and put on a pleasant smile. Worf continued to glower darkly. Shea puckered him an air kiss and Worf looked like he was about to explode again. Riker covered his mouth with one hand trying not to smile. Data watched the interaction with open curiosity looking forward to reviewing it with his emotion chip activated.

"That's enough," Picard admonished them all. "Admiral Conners, please proceed."

"We have prepared the speech that you will deliver before the High Council," Conners addressed Commander Shea. "You'll need to memorize it. Before entering the Guardian you will be given an emergency return activator. Whatever you do, don't lose it. It's your only way back home. As you know, you must maintain a low profile. Get in, locate the Sword and get out as fast as possible. Keep all interaction to an absolute minimum." Shea nodded. "Picard, his senior staff and I will be attend the ceremony with you. I can't overemphasize that you conduct yourself with the utmost respect when before the Emperor and the High Council."

"It's going to be difficult being respectful to a clone," she said.

"How did you know this?" Worf demanded hotly, "No one is to know this!"

"Like you, Worf, I have my sources. It's incredible to think he sits on that throne posing to be the legendary Kahless returned to life."

"For all intents and purposes the Emperor is Kahless," Worf insisted.

"Is he?" Shea sneered. "Those old tissue samples could have come from anyone. He may be the clone of some ancient scum dealer."

"You dare!" Worf was on his feet again.

"Enough!" Picard yelled again, "We have no time for this foolish bickering. The research team is waiting. We're to beam down immediately. Mr. Worf, I think it best if you remain here. Number One, you have the bridge."

Worf obviously resented the order, but said nothing. Picard transported down to the planet surface along with Commander Shea and Lt. Commander Data, where they were met by a well armed security team and a Starfleet science officer. Picard glanced up at the planet's stormy sky with its swirling dark clouds that always threatened but never delivered the raging fury they seemed to hold. The science officer welcomed them briefly and led them to their appointed destination.

There before them stood the towering portal of time identified by none other than itself as the Guardian of Forever. At the moment, it sat quietly looking like nothing more than a natural rock formation unique only in the large roughly circular opening cut through its center. The people observing it knew better. There was nothing natural about it. It had been created long ago by a now forgotten ancient civilization as a doorway to the past of a million worlds. And it was sentient.

The first accidental encounter with it by the _Enterprise 1701_ under Captain James T. Kirk had altered time to the point that the future as they knew it had very nearly ceased to exist. To the best of their knowledge the problem had been corrected, but then there was always the concern that no one could ever really be certain if history had been altered or not, as memories would theoretically change in accordance.

Starfleet did not take the danger lightly and protected access to it by every possible security means known. It was a dangerous thing they were about to do. Starfleet was putting an enormous faith in Shea's ability to get in and out of the past without altering its flow. Picard watched her standing before the Guardian contemplating what she was about to do. He still couldn't believe that she had finally agreed based solely on his recommendation. Perhaps there was something to Conners' claim about her fierce personal loyalties after all.

Two of the science officers from the Guardian research team supervised the operation. One manned the panel installed in front of the Guardian controlling the protective force field surrounding it. After submitting to the required retinal security scan, the man deactivated the field allowing Shea to approach the Guardian. She stated her request to the Guardian in a loud firm voice. The Guardian obediently came to life and began to display the events leading up to the disappearance of the Sword.

The display moved far too fast for the naked eye to follow, but the team had been working for several days on pinpointing the exact time in history. Their computer would indicate when Shea was to go through. She braced herself. At the precise moment the control panel lit up, she jumped through the portal and disappeared.

"Well, has anything changed Picard?" Q's disembodied voice whispered in his ear, "but then how would you know?" A low chuckle followed and Q flashed into existence appearing in his usual human male form except this time, for some peculiar reason known only to himself, he was dressed in a Roman toga and sandals. Picard was unpleasantly surprised to find himself dressed in the same manner. He glared at Q in exasperation grabbing a handful of the long robe he now wore.

"Oh these?" Q gestured to their clothing, "I was just doing a little time hopping of my own. The Romans were such a sensual people. Now, _they_ knew how to live." He flicked his hand and their garb changed back into the red shirted uniforms of Starfleet. "There, does that make you more comfortable? Of course, it does, it's so much stuffier."

Picard sighed and stepped far enough away from the others to ensure that their conversation would not be overheard. Data watched the two from a distance alert for any indication from the Captain that his assistance was required.

"Dabbling in a little time travel are we?" Q inquired, "It amazes me that you would, considering how little you understand the nature of it. You only see time linearly. You don't grasp the full picture."

"And I suppose you do?" Picard asked with some annoyance.

"Of course. Time is an ever moving force constantly in ebb and flow, every moment affecting that which came before and comes after." He saw Picard scowling at him. "How I can explain this so your limited intellect can grasp it? Think of it as being analogous to the flow of electricity. The average person thinks of it as flowing in one direction from its source to its destination, but in reality it is flowing back and forth continuously, faster than it can be perceived by your senses." Q wagged his finger back and forth impossibly fast in Picard's face until it blurred into a single vibrating line. "Time flows backwards and forwards but humans can only perceive it one direction. Higher evolved lifeforms such as myself are simultaneously aware of their experiences in all times of their existence."

"Doesn't that awareness destroy all spontaneity, leading one to constantly second guess one's actions. It seems to me that the result would be the inability to act at all."

"Not necessarily, but most time-aware beings choose to experience existence linearly so that each moment may be lived to its fullest, just to avoid that very problem. It's simply a matter of concentration."

"Is that how _you_ normally experience time, Q?"

"It is more fun that way - it brings forth a sense of mystery."

"So, what humans do naturally, you accomplish only through the use of prolonged concentration. So where's the advantage? What's the point?"

"The advantage is we can change if necessary and the point is that it's a matter of choice made from awareness rather the blind habit of ignorance," Q snapped at him.

"Perhaps so," Picard replied enjoying the fact that he was annoying Q, "I just think it's interesting to note that with all your knowledge and awareness, as you put it, you choose to live the same way we do."

"Oh! You humans anthropomorphize everything! Anyway the ability is wasted on you, Picard. You don't seem to be having any _fun_ at all!"

Picard was just about to make a retort when his thoughts were interrupted. The Guardian had become animated again.

"Captain, I believe Commander Shea is returning," Data reported.

Picard joined him in front of the Guardian just as Shea came into view. A voice just beyond the range of his hearing whispered, "Do try to have some fun, Picard!" He barely caught a glimpse of Shea when a hand on his back shoved him forward through the portal. He instinctively spun round to see who had pushed him, and found himself facing two angry Klingons running at him with weapons drawn. Before he could react, a blast caught him square in the chest slamming him into a wall at his back. He felt the heat and the impact, and blacked out.

When Commander Shea touched ground, she found Data standing next to her staring fixedly at the portal with his mouth slightly open in surprise. She then noticed Captain Picard was not present.

"What's wrong, Data? Where's the Captain?"

"He went through the portal just as you exited," Data responded without looking at her.

"Why would he do that?" she asked.

"I do not know."

"You mean it wasn't planned?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Guardian!" Shea addressed the flickering face of the towering structure, "Where has Captain Picard gone?"

The Guardian's booming voice filled the air around them.

"TO THAT EXACT MOMENT IN TIME AND SPACE VACATED BY YOURSELF."

"He'll be killed," she whispered, then demanded forcefully, "Replay the previous time sequence."

In response, the Guardian immediately shut down. The research scientists scrambled around trying to figure out what had just happened.

"It's never refused a request for entry before," they assured her. But no matter what they tried, the Guardian remained silent and inactive. Shea paced worriedly.

"You appear to believe the Captain is in danger," Data observed.

Shea nodded solemnly, "When I made the jump to the present, a pair of Klingon guards were about to cut me down with a disrupter. If the Captain leaped into that..." She didn't have to finish the thought for Data to get the picture. "I've got to get back there... then again, I suppose I already am."

Despite repeated requests, the Guardian remained stubbornly silent.

In the past, Picard drifted in and out of consciousness -his mind clouded with overwhelming pain. He was vaguely aware of voices and of being moved. In his delirium, he called out to people he knew, but only one name was recognizable to those who watched over him.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Earthdate: 2273

Stardate: 6148.5

The USS Enterprise 1701 held orbit above an outpost at the edge of the Klingon Empire. This was as close as the High Council would agree to having a Federation flagship to their homeworld of Qo'noS. The _Enterprise_ was in charge of transporting the Starfleet Goodwill Ambassadors. The delegation had recently returned from Qo'noS to the outpost and things had not gone well. Acting Captain Decker worried over the recent turn of events and summoned Lieutenant Shea.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," she said standing at attention.

"Hello, Lieutenant. How are you?" he inquired with a smile.

"Fine, sir, thank you."

"Good, good. Lieutenant, I'd like your help on something. Klingon security has just turned over a man to us that they accidentally fired upon. They were chasing a Klingon female, when he suddenly appeared and got caught in the crossfire. He was wearing a uniform of some sort that doesn't correspond to any organization we know of and he was also wearing this." He tossed a small gold and silver-colored badge at her which she caught in mid-air. "It appears to have some very sophisticated electronics in it. Since you're so clever at taking things apart, I thought you might like to have a look at it."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." She examined her little prize with delight and turned to leave.

"There's more, Lieutenant."

"Oh! Sorry, sir." She spun back and stood at attention.

"Negotiations with the Klingon High Council to extend the temporary cease fire have broken down. Their dedication ceremony had to be canceled because the Sword of Kahless has gone missing and they are accusing us of taking the Sword to _dishonor_ them. Admiral Saunders reports there were a number of individuals present with access to the Chamber who might be interested in undermining these negotiations. He noticed one female Klingon in particular that he thought was behaving suspiciously. When guards tried to detain her for questioning, she escaped and still remains at large. Quite a trick, if you ask me, considering all that beefed-up security down there. At one point they nearly cornered her when our mystery man appeared out of nowhere and got blasted in her place. They're continuing the search for her, but so far there's no sign. Klingon security assumed this man belongs to us, but it turns out we have no record of him and no idea how he arrived here. I want to know who he is and where he came from, and I think you're just the person for the job."

"Really? Why me, sir?"

"In his delirium, he mentioned several names, one of which was yours."

"Wow!" Her eyes were wide in wonder.

"Yes, wow," Decker smiled slightly at her youthful enthusiasm, "I want you to go down to sickbay and be there when he regains consciousness. See what you can find out about him and report back to me."

"Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

When Picard awoke, he was looking up into Shea's face. Everything was blurred and confused.

"Shea! Where- where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

"You're in sickbay on the _Enterprise_," she answered.

"Thank God!" he said softly. "For a moment, I thought I'd been trapped in the past." A searing agony centering in his chest gripped him and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. "What's wrong with me?"

"You were hit with a disrupter blast. I'm sorry," she said. "It must be very painful."

"Yes, it is," Picard grimaced, "Surely the doctor can do better than this."

"I'm the only one here at the moment, but I might be able to help - if you want me to."

"Any assistance would be much appreciated," he said through clenched teeth.

He lay there with his eyes closed waiting for the sting of a hypospray. Instead, he felt Shea's lips on his while the blanket covering him slid away. He weakly tried to push her away, but the sensation was so overwhelmingly pleasant he ceased almost immediately. A soothing warmth emanated from her, melting the pain away as she lay down covering his body completely. A little voice in the back of his mind admonished him that this was something he shouldn't be doing, but it was a very little voice. He let himself sink into the sensuality of her ministrations responding accordingly. Afterwards, he fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke again, Shea was still there, unclothed and unembarrassed. _Oh no_," he thought, _What did I just do_? He closed his eyes again not wanting to face the fact that he had just violated his own order of non-fraternization.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "Is the pain gone?"

He touched his chest gingerly.

"Yes! You did that?"

"Yep, that was me. Dr. McCoy says that if he could put me in pill form, he'd be out of business."

"McCoy?" Picard sat up and took a good look at his surroundings. This wasn't sickbay, at least not his sickbay. "I thought you said we were on the _Enterprise_."

"We are."

"Oh, _Mon Dieu_. What year is this?"

"Earth year 2273. So what year are you from?"

He suddenly realized that the Shea he was talking to was not the one from his time period. He mustn't reveal anything.

"This one of course."

"No, you're not," she pushed him down and straddled him, "You said you were afraid you'd been trapped in the past. You're from the future, and in that future you know me. Isn't that so?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about. You must have misunderstood. I was in pain, obviously out of my head."

"Nice try. I might even believe you if it weren't for this." She tossed his communication badge in the air. He made a grab for it but she caught it and held it out of reach. "Uh, uh, uh," she said. She was still sitting on him pinning him down. He wished that she would put some clothes on. He needed to get his wits in order.

"I have to get out of here," he said urgently.

"And go where?"

"Where I came from."

"The future."

Picard didn't answer.

"If you're honest with me, I'll try to help you. Something tells me you could use some help."

He had to agree that he definitely could, and he could see it wasn't likely he could convince her he was from her time.

"Very well," he admitted reluctantly. "You are correct. I am here from the future, quite by accident, and I need to return as soon as possible. Please don't ask for any details. The risk of altering the timeline is incredibly dangerous."

"Oh, I've heard people say that, but I can't accept the theory that you can cause a permanent change of any significance in your own past." She spoke rapidly. "I don't believe in paradoxes. How could anyone change his own history to the point of eliminating the circumstances by which he went into the past when to do so would prevent him from going into the past in the first place so he couldn't have changed it to begin with, now could he?"

"I realize it's confusing but that's the definition of a paradox. Besides, it very nearly happened once."

"Oh, yes, I know, you're thinking about Captain Kirk and the Guardian of Forever," she continued at that same rapid fire pace, "but despite all their meddling everything returned to the way it was before in the end, now didn't it? So see, time has a way of protecting itself completely independent of any actions on our part or even on the part of the Guardian's-I don't think anyone as insignificant as you or I could possibly ever change it in any significant way-what is your name, anyway?"

Picard blinked at her in amazement and very nearly told her, "It's Jean-Lu-" then he caught himself in time. "Jean Pike."

"John, huh? Well that much is probably accurate. Christopher Pike was a well known Captai, so you probably just picked that last name. Since you were happy to think you were on the _Enterprise_, I have to conclude that you have a ship in the future by the same name. Probably not this ship, since you immediately realized this wasn't the right sickbay. How am I doing so far?"

Picard resolved not to give her any further information. She had already guessed too much.

"Would you please get off of me?" he requested politely but firmly.

"Why?" she asked teasingly and instead slipped back down on top of him. "I can tell you like me. Besides you're in pretty good shape for an older man." Her fingertips caressed his face and neck then headed downwards. "Are we very good friends in that future of yours?"

"No!" Picard snapped in growing desperation trying to grab that roving hand, "I absolutely must get out of here. Are you going to help me or not?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Then start by kindly removing yourself."

"Oh, all right," she agreed reluctantly and slid off.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked trying to regain some dignity.

She opened a nearby compartment and pulled out his uniform.

"Starfleet colors," she observed running her fingers over the four metal insignias of rank, "Pretty high up in command, are you?"

"Give me that!" he demanded irritably and grabbed the uniform from her hands. Then after considering it, he asked more politely, "Is there something else I could wear, something less conspicuous?"

She opened another compartment and tossed him a tunic and pants of a non-descript grey. He nodded and began to dress. She simply stood and watched him.

"Why don't you get dressed as well?" he suggested averting his eyes.

"Why are people always so happy to cover themselves up?" she looked at him curiously, "Don't you find it smothering?"

"No, I do not."

"I just can't get used to it. I was hoping people of the future might give it up," she stood there frowning. "It's really kind of silly anyway. We live in a completely enclosed environment on starships. What do people need with clothing?"

"It's not for protection, it's for privacy," he answered, avoiding her stare. "It also helps us keep our mind on what we're doing."

"Ah!" she laughed lightly, "You do like me."

Picard just sighed a little and pointed to her clothing. She shrugged and began to dress, much to his relief. He recognized the short skirted uniform as being from this period in history. He preferred the asexual uniforms of his own time. Much more practical he thought. He noticed with some amusement that her sleeves were missing. He tossed his Starfleet uniform into a disintegration disposal chute while she watched him.

"I don't suppose you would allow me to do the same with that badge?" he asked.

"No, I think I'll keep it for now," she palmed the badge hiding it somewhere on her person. "Did you come through the Guardian?" she asked. He nodded thinking there was little harm in revealing that fact. "I suppose you've come back here to correct another traveler's mistake and then you'll just pop back to own time the same way that Kirk did."

"No, I... I don't know why I'm here," he answered worriedly. "As far as I know, there's nothing to correct. The only mistake I'm aware of is the fact that I'm here at all."

"If that's so then the Guardian should have retrieved you already. Maybe you're supposed to be here."

"No," Picard shook his head, "I have no business being here. I'm sure of it."

"Then how do you propose to return?" she looked at him curiously.

Picard had no idea. He wasn't equipped with an emergency return device as Commander Shea had been. He had no way of communicating with the Guardian.

"I'm not sure," he thought for a moment, "The only way I can think of is to go through the Guardian in this time period."

"Oh, good luck! No one uses the Guardian. Not even the highest ranked officers in Starfleet know its location. The coordinates and the planet itself are guarded by the most sophisticated security systems available."

"Perhaps if I explain my predicament to Captain Kirk, he will assist me."

"Maybe he would, but unfortunately he's an Admiral off ship back on Earth now," she replied, "The man you have to convince is the acting Captain Charles Decker and he goes strictly by the book."

"Decker..." Picard tried to remember the history of the man, "What do you think he will do?"

"He'll do what the book tells him and turn you over to Starfleet security. Who knows, they might eventually give you access to the Guardian if you can convince the time-flux experts and bureaucrats in Headquarters that it's vital. I hope you're not in any hurry."

"I'm definitely in a hurry," he replied.

"Then I think you've got a problem," she turned away, "Let's go see the Captain."

"Wait!" Picard caught her arm, "I can't spend weeks let alone months trying to convince them to let me return. The more time I spend here, the greater the danger. Knowing how the bureaucratic minds at Starfleet work, I might never be permitted to use the Guardian. There's got to be a better way."

"I hope you're not suggesting I cover for you or help you obtain classified information? I don't even know you and I'm not convinced about that danger part, anyway."

Picard searched for some way to convince her of the urgency of his situation, "You believe that I am from the future, do you not?"

"Yeah...?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Then you must understand why I feel I must return. This is not my world, my ship or my people - or even my time! Even if you are correct that I cannot change history in any significant way, I simply don't belong here."

"I'm sorry. I'd like to help but...," Shea sighed. "Come on, let's go see Decker. I have to make a report."

Shea led the way to the Captain's quarters. Picard considered making a run for it, but where would he run to? Besides, considering Shea's reflexes he probably wouldn't get more than ten feet. They stood in front of the Captain's door and she pressed the chime.

"What are you going to tell him?" he asked.

"I can't lie to my captain," she insisted.

Decker admitted them, gesturing for them to take seats, and waited for Shea to begin.

"Sir, I believe I can clear up the mystery here." Shea's eyes met Picard's. She took a deep breath and continued. "This is John...Pike. You probably remember Captain Christopher Pike? Well, John got his last name from him. John remembered meeting me another time on the _Enterprise_ so naturally when he saw where he was he mentioned my name."

"You met here on the _Enterprise_?" Decker was scowling slightly.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "Obviously you weren't on board at the time."

Picard looked at Shea with amazement. Every word was true, but completely misleading. She wasn't lying exactly, but she was certainly giving him a lot of room to work.

"I see," Decker replied although his face expressed uncertainty, "and what about that unusual uniform and the badge?"

"I believe I can explain," Picard smiled improvising quickly, "I'm part of a trading consortium in the outer regions. We had our own uniforms designed. As for the badge, I just happened to pick that up in a card game on a farspace station in the Gamma quadrant. I've never been able to figure out what it does, if anything. It is a bit unusual, isn't it?"

Shea smiled saying nothing. Decker watched the two of them closely.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, "There's also the mystery of your arrival at this outpost. Could you explain how you got here?"

Picard's mind raced. He didn't even know what outpost this was, "Well... some business dealings went sour for me and my associates were less than pleased. I thought it best if I leave immediately. Unfortunately, that did not leave time for formal travel arrangements."

Shea went just a little further out on that limb, "What he's trying to say so diplomatically is that he stowed away in a cargo container on that Andorian supply ship which docked here yesterday," she turned to Picard, "I bet you never expected to land on a Klingon outpost."

"No, no I certainly didn't," he smiled at her, "I was trying to stay out of sight but somehow ended up in the middle of a warzone. I assume their firing upon me was accidental."

"Yes," Decker answered him, "I was told they were chasing a Klingon female. I don't suppose you have any knowledge about that?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Picard lied.

"Well, I can hardly leave you alone out here, can I," Decker regarded him as if he were some annoying stray. "We're heading back to Earth. I'm sure the authorities there will want to ask you some more questions. Meanwhile, I'm not quite sure where to put you. We're carrying a peace delegation from Earth and are pretty well packed."

Shea spoke up, "As I said, Captain, John and I are old friends. He can stay with me."

Picard almost protested but then thought better of it. Shea was the last person he could afford to offend at the moment. He smiled graciously, and said "Thank-you."

Shea showed Picard to her quarters.

"Make yourself at home," she offered, "If you need anything, let me know."

"Shea, I appreciate what you did. I hope I'm not compromising your relationship with Captain Decker."

"Oh, I don't think he suspects anything."

"I meant about sharing your quarters."

"Why should he care?"

"I just assumed that you and he...well, he's fairly young, good looking and, of course, he is the captain."

"No, he's not my type," she laughed a little shaking her head, "Decker has no sense of humor and no imagination. Did you see the way he swallowed our line of bull? If that had been Kirk, he would have had us pinned to the wall by now. Decker is a bright enough guy and a pretty good officer, I suppose, but, I don't know, there's just something missing."

"Missing?"

"Yeah. Like an energy force or something. I guess maybe you could describe it as that kind of intensity some people radiate when they're driven by a sense of purpose. Decker just seems to go through the motions, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I think I do."

"Yeah? Well, I have to go on duty," she headed for the door, "We can discuss your _future_ when I get back."

Picard took the liberty of examining her quarters after she was gone. It was filled with knick-knacks, paintings and sculptures. Brightly colored pieces of clothing were casually tossed about. He could see more hanging in a closet carelessly left open. The room hardly looked like it belonged to someone who traveled with no luggage.

It wasn't like him to invade another's privacy, but he couldn't afford ignorance. On closer examination, the collection of knick-knacks turned out to be valuable pieces of art often inscribed with dates, names, initials, or the poetry of some love-sick suitor. He opened a large metal box on a shelf and discovered a veritable treasure of jeweled baubles. Another even larger box on the floor of the closet was similarly filled.

Picard thought he had a pretty good picture of the type of person he was dealing with. He next came across a slim wooden box. He opened it expecting more booty, but the contents surprised him and suddenly his picture of her became a little more complex. Inside were six Medals of Valor each inscribed with Shea's name and the date awarded. Six medals in less than 2 years time. Incredible.

He began to get an inkling of why Starfleet had been so eager to get her back in the service, or rather _would_ be. These medals were also further evidence that her Starfleet records had been altered. What he had read referenced only one such medal, not six. Picard smiled to himself, thinking he better not tell Worf about this. Worf only had three.

He decided to get down to business and went for her computer terminal. He called up the records on this ship's current mission. Accessing the ship's computer without setting off any internal alarms proved a relatively simple task. He easily circumvented the antiquated security restrictions and perused the status of the peace negotiations, the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the Sword and the ensuing barrage of accusations launched from both sides. The primary suspect was now the mysterious Klingon female. Starfleet's Internal Affairs Department was waiting for her detailed physiological readings to be shared with them by the Klingon authorities. Not surprisingly, the Klingons, always suspicious, were refusing to cooperate.

He checked the ship's logs for Lieutenant Shea's whereabouts during the negotiations. They clearly showed she was on board the entire time. Picard knew that eventually those readings of Shea's future self in Klingon form would be released and that they would lead straight to the Shea of this time. If history went forward uninterrupted, Starfleet would ignore the ship's logs and she would be turned over to the Klingons. A sad outcome, but he absolutely could not do anything that would interfere with the natural progression of this timeline. He hoped he'd be able to make his exit before her arrest. His chances of success were a whole lot better with her help than without it.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The journey to Earth lasted five days. Picard found himself in the awkward position of having to share quarters with this younger version of the Shea from his time. He did his best to stay on good terms with her yet not become personally involved. Not surprisingly, it didn't work. He got involved. In fact, he got very involved. During their time together when he managed to not be so involved, the two of them actually came up with a plan.

"Alright, as long as we stick to our story, I should be able to get past the security interrogation rather quickly," Picard concluded taking a seat a safe distance away. "Once you get Kirk to tell you the coordinates of Forever World, I'll need to arrange passage for myself."

"One little problem with that," Shea smiled apologetically. "I've decided not to ask him. Kirk swore to never reveal its location to anyone and even allowed the location to be wiped from his conscious memory. The only way he could get it for us now is to access the files through his terminal or subject himself to a mindprobe. Either way it's too risky. If they traced it back to him he'd be ruined. I just can't ask him to do it."

Picard sat back with a sigh, "Well, that would seem to put a rather large crimp in our plan."

"The information is there in the Command Central Computer. We'll just have to find another way to get at it. There's bound to be a chink in the armor somewhere. I've got a fair amount of inside information and you have all that advanced technological knowledge. Together we should be able to figure a way in without tipping our hand. We just need to do this without anyone being the wiser."

"You're very worried about being caught, aren't you?" Picard commented.

"Heck, yes! I walk a pretty fine line around Starfleet Command as it is. People there still talk about the problems I had at the Academy."

"But I understood you did very well at your exams and graduated early."

"I did," she pouted, "but it was all because the instructors said I was too disruptive in class and claimed that the other students couldn't concentrate. So halfway through the second year I quit going. Then they got mad about that. They said if I didn't plan on attending classes I might as well sit for my final exams right then. So I took them up on the offer. I guess they had hoped I'd flunk out and they'd be rid of me. Even though I did well, some of the Academy officials opposed my being assigned to a ship and still aren't too happy about it even now. Fortunately, I do a lot better in the field than in a classroom. But if my helping you with this scheme to use the Guardian gets out, that could very well be the end my career entirely. Then where would I go?"

"It's a big universe."

"Maybe so, but I like it here. My friends are here and this is where I want to be."

"In that case, don't get involved. I can find my own way back," he offered. He could see her concern and knowing full-well that it would only increase her guilt, he added, "You needn't worry on my behalf. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure you will," she closed the distance between them and sat in his lap, "I'm in this far. I'll see it through."

Picard didn't argue, he couldn't afford to. He also couldn't afford any remorse about manipulating her. He pushed the feeling aside.

"Thank you. Now is there anyone else at Starfleet from whom you could get the information?" he asked.

Shea shook her head doubtfully, "The only other person with a personal access to top security files would be Admiral Phillip Saunders. Believe me, he's the last person who would do me a favor."

"Saunders!" Picard's eyes widened slightly at hearing that name, "Does he dislike you for some reason?"

"I've had a few run-ins with him. He's been a thorn in Kirk's side for years, so it's not too surprising we wouldn't get along either. The one thing we've ever agreed on is our mutual distrust of Klingons."

"Could you get me access to his terminal without his knowledge? That way we could keep Kirk out of it completely. I'm confident I can circumvent the computer security lockouts."

"Maybe I could," she replied thoughtfully, "but the breach might be traced back to Saunders' terminal. It wouldn't be fair to implicate him either."

Picard resisted the impulse to tell her that she was protecting a man who was about to sell her down the proverbial river. Instead, he said, "I will make every effort to prevent it from being traced." She hesitated. He could read the uncertainty in her eyes. He squeezed her gently trying to win her over. "It's very important and I assure you, the risk would be minimal."

"Okay," she sighed, "if you're sure."

When the _Enterprise 1701_ arrived at Earth, Picard was summarily escorted to Starfleet headquarters for interrogation. He stuck to his story now swollen with details and supported by Lt. Shea along with a few references to his fabricated life that he'd managed to sneak into the main computer when the _Enterprise_ downloaded its logs. The combined effect was a fairly believable story and as he had predicted they released him after only a moderate delay.

He exited the main building a free man. He walked through the Central Gardens noting how little they had changed up through his own time. He looked for Shea then spotted her sitting on a bench. He stopped abruptly when he realized it was the same bench she would choose to sit on 98 years from now when they would meet again for the first time. She saw him freeze in place and came trotting over to him.

"What's the matter? Did something go wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no. Everything's fine. I was just remembering something," he stared at her for a long moment, then put his mind on the present. "So, have you come up with a way to get me into Saunders' terminal?"

"I think so," she smiled, "There's going to be a reception tonight at the Main Hall. Saunders' office is just two floors above. You can go with me to the reception and then head upstairs. I'll find some way to keep everyone distracted while you get the information."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Don't worry. I know how to be distracting. Just make sure you keep your mind on getting to that computer. Here's your room pass at the hotel across from here." she pointed. "Your tux and the equipment you requested are waiting for you there. Be ready by six."

In his room, Picard donned the formal attire Shea had procured for him then quickly examined his reflection in the mirror. It would do. He picked up the small antiquated tricorder she'd gotten for him and rechecked the adjustments he had made. He couldn't believe he had to go through all this intrigue just to get the coordinates of a planet he had already visited. If those idiots at Starfleet Command in his own time had simply trusted him, this all could have been avoided.

At precisely 6:00, his door buzzed. He had to admit she was punctual as he opened the door for her. She wore a long black-hooded cloak which enveloped her completely. At her side was a large oval shaped case with a side pocket, in which she concealed the tricorder.

"That's a rather conspicuously sized purse," he commented.

"It's not a purse. It's a case for an Aldorean synthesizer guitar," she explained.

"Will they let you in with that?"

"Yes, don't worry. Just stick close to me so you don't have to answer too many questions. There'll be some pretty sharp people there tonight. Someone might figure out you're not who you say you are. If we seem engrossed in each other, people will tend to leave us alone. You can sneak upstairs when the entertainment starts."

"Won't our behavior make it even more conspicuous when I suddenly disappear?"

"Believe me no one's going to be paying attention to you. I'll make sure of that. Just concentrate on getting up those stairs. I can give you 30 to 45 minutes at the most and then you'd better be back."

Together they walked across the plaza toward the entrance of the Main Hall, presented their invitations and entered. The Main Hall was a huge ballroom now filled with hundreds of people arrayed in their finest. A dozen large crystal chandeliers glittered above them reflecting off the mirrored surfaces and sparkling gowns. The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter and voices melded together with the background music of a live band playing on stage at the back of the room. In front of the band, dozens of couples danced and spun in circles around a softly lit glass floor.

Picard had seen this room in his own time at a number of official functions, but never quite like this. This was no stuffy reception, this was a party! Well, he was not here to party. He'd appear engrossed with Shea as planned, avoiding interaction with the other guests, then slip away at the appropriate moment. He helped Shea remove her cloak handing it and the case to the waiting attendant, then turned back to offer his arm in escort. When he looked at her, he sucked in his breath.

"You don't like it," she said.

"No, no. I... I simply wasn't prepared," he averted his eyes for a moment to compose himself then looked again. A narrow strip of glittering cloth starting at one shoulder wrapped itself sinuously around her breasts, waist and hips barely covering the essential parts. The strip gradually grew wider as it descended finally turning into a shimmering skirt that fell to her ankles with one side slit up to the middle of her thigh. Except for the dress, she wore no adornment other than a pair of black and gold bands on her wrist. She had let her long full hair flow over her shoulders and back unencumbered. The glow of the chandeliers filled it with sparkles of gold, red and silver. The overall effect was undeniably spectacular.

"Your appearance is a little more conspicuous than I had anticipated." He was trying to be diplomatic.

"I need to be conspicuous. I'm the one who has to distract everybody."

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem." He could already see the stares of most of the people in their vicinity. He escorted her into the main room, where she was immediately beset upon by half a dozen young male officers.

"Shea, what a delight to the eyes you are!" gushed a tall Lieutenant with a shock of blond hair. He bowed slightly, grabbing her hand and kissing it gallantly. "You absolutely must dance with me."

"I'd love to, Jake, but tonight I've promised all my dances to my very dear old friend, John, here," Shea squeezed Picard's arm possessively.

Jake looked at Picard disapprovingly, "_Old_ seems to be the key word here."

Picard was about to confront the obnoxious oaf, but Shea stepped in neatly.

"Not _old_, Jake, mature!" she replied, "Besides you know very well that I like men with a little seasoning."

"Looking for a father figure, Shea?" a shorter dark-haired officer piped up from behind Jake. Chuckles followed. Picard's eyes were beginning to narrow and Shea watched him with amusement.

"The question is, can the old man keep up with her?" Jake laughed and his companions joined in.

Picard was tensing. Shea felt it and spoke up quickly, "I have no complaints. Now if you boys will excuse us." Shea guided Picard through their midst and off towards the dance floor. "Do you mind dancing? I don't think they'll bother us out here."

Picard took her in his arms and swept her across the floor. He could still see the group of young men eyeing them.

"So, I'm a father figure, am I?" he said irritably.

"Maybe," she smiled, "You would make a good one."

"I doubt it," he replied.

"Don't you have any children?" she asked. When he shook his head, she asked, "Didn't you want any?"

"Never found the time," he answered brusquely, "I had my career to think about."

"But you regret it now, don't you?" she said sadly as she watched his expression.

"It hardly matters," he sighed, "It's a bit late in my life to be starting a family."

"You still could," she insisted, "...with the right woman."

Picard looked for a way to change the subject. He noticed that those same officers were still hanging about watching them.

"Your fan club is incredibly persistent," he said nodding in their direction.

"You wanted to deck him, didn't you?" she smiled.

"Which one?" he asked, glaring at them from across the floor.

"Ignore them and pay attention to me," she ordered.

He nodded and tried to concentrate on his dancing. Eventually her admirers gave up and drifted away while Picard continued to dance with her. He supposed they could stop now but he had always enjoyed ballroom dancing and it seemed especially pleasant at the moment. She was so light and graceful in his arms, he thought, and so incredibly beautiful. He brought his thoughts around with a snap and stopped abruptly.

"I take it you'd like to quit now?" she said.

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

"That's fine. They've started serving dinner. We still have some time to use up, so why don't you get something to eat and join me outside on the veranda."

He followed her suggestion, fixing himself a plate. He realized he hadn't eaten since early this morning. He found her waiting for him overlooking the Bay. She leaned on the railing staring at the gently surging water below, seemingly entranced.

"You enjoy swimming in the ocean out there, do you?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she looked up at him with surprise, "but I kind of keep it a secret. Makes people uneasy." She paused watching him scowling at his plate as if something were wrong with it. "Don't like the food?" she asked.

"No, I just don't seem to have much of an appetite," he looked puzzled, "Nerves, I suppose."

"Actually, it's probably my fault," she said, "I tend to have that effect on men. The longer you're with me the less food you need. Soon, all you'll need is me!" she teased.

"Dear Lord," he said in a shocked voice, "Are you telling me that I'm addicted to you in some way?"

Shea looked at his horrified expression, then glared at him, "No, you're not _addicted_ to me! You can leave anytime you like."

He nodded sighing with relief then watched as her face gradually turned to stone. Her voice was like ice, "I get the feeling you don't particularly like me, Mr. Pike."

Picard met her angry gaze listening to the little alarms going off in head, "Nonsense," he smiled, "I like you very much."

"Really?" she said sarcastically, "then perhaps it's the future me that you dislike."

"No, not at all," he struggled to patch things up, "It's just that I...well, I guess I don't know you very well in either time period."

"And what you know, you don't like."

"I don't know what gave you that impression."

"Must be something to do with that horrified look on your face plus the fact that except for talking about your escape plans, you have almost nothing to say to me," she glared at him accusingly, "Considering how we've spent the last five nights together, you could be a little nicer!"

"Our physical relationship was never intentional on my part but you made it impossible to avoid," he retorted defensively, "I've never met anyone more aggressive."

Shea inhaled slightly. Suddenly she jabbed him in the chest with her finger and hissed, "You've got some nerve. I admit that our first time together may have been a surprise to you, but I did it to relieve your pain. All the times since then you seemed _pretty_ enthusiastic to me. Here I am, taking you in, sharing my quarters, fabricating not-so-little white lies, and thoroughly sticking my neck out for someone who doesn't even like me? I should have my head examined. No, what I should do is dump you off this balcony!"

Shea's voice was growing louder and people were beginning to notice. Picard quickly realized his error. "Shea, please, calm down and lower your voice. Forgive me, I spoke without thinking. I certainly meant no offense."

"Too late. I'm offended. I'm very offended," with that she stomped off disappearing into the crowded ballroom.

Oh, no, what had he done? Picard cursed himself for his stupidity. He certainly knew what any woman in her position wanted to hear. He was hardly inexperienced in such matters. Why had he so stubbornly refused to pay her any compliment, to show any degree of affection or even express appreciation for what she was doing for him? Instead, he'd insulted her.

He was glad Riker wasn't here. Undoubtedly, he would say that Picard was afraid to speak any words of affection for fear that saying them would be an admission of truth. Lord, was that it? Was he falling for her and just too damned afraid to admit it? It didn't matter what he felt, what he needed was her help. There was little chance of success without it. He went after her.

After much searching, he spotted her on the dance floor in the embrace of that same blonde Lieutenant he had previously found so obnoxious. He tried to catch her eye but she ignored him. He asked one of the servers when the entertainment was going to begin. Ten minutes was the answer. He was running out of time. He'd have to go it alone. He decided to get the tricorder from her bag. The attendant retrieved the bag for him but when he checked the side pocket, the tricorder was missing. She must have it. There was no way he could get past the security field up to Saunders' office without it. Damn her!

He handed the bag back to the attendant then one of the orchestra members suddenly appeared and grabbed it. Picard watched realizing that time was growing shorter by the moment. He hurried back to the dance floor. When Shea and the Lieutenant sailed by again, he cut in. Jake whirled on him angrily, but Picard held his ground.

"Excuse me, but I must speak to Shea," he said firmly.

"Get lost, old man," Jake sneered at him, "Can't you see she'd rather be with me?"

"Perhaps so, but it is important that I speak with her. If Shea chooses to return to you, that is, of course, entirely her right."

"Well, I say it's her right, right now, so beat it!" Jake shoved Picard backwards with his hand.

The young man had just crossed over Picard's personal line and there was no more time for diplomacy. Picard grabbed the offending hand with his left and sailed a right fist into the man's chin. The Lieutenant crumpled like an empty sack. Picard peered down at him in surprise, then smiled apologetically to the small crowd gathering about.

"Glass jaw, I suppose," he said to them, then looked over to see Shea scowling in his direction.

"Maybe you'd like to try that with me?" she snarled.

"No, of course not. I simply want to talk to you... to apologize."

"Not interested," she said haughtily and marched off.

The Lieutenant on the floor was beginning to stir. Picard stepped over him and trotted after her. She slipped into the crowd again nearly losing him. He spotted her again heading outside. This time he broke into a run to catch up, to hell with the stares. He caught hold of her wrist just outside the door.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Back to my ship, where I belong. This party has lost its appeal." She shook off his grip but he jumped in front of her grabbing her by both arms.

"Please, you can't leave. We're not finished here. You have my tricorder. I need it! And the diversion you promised me." Picard calmed himself and decided to take a different approach. He spoke slowly and sincerely, "I'm sorry. I've hurt you, I know. I didn't mean to. If I haven't spoken words of tenderness it is because I can't afford to have those kinds of feelings for you. This isn't my time. I can't stay here and I don't want to feel the need to. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. Surely, you can understand that."

Shea looked at him sadly, "I guess so." She closed her eyes for a moment collecting her thoughts. When she opened them again she was all business, "I hid your tricorder in the plant by the stairwell. You can retrieve it on your way up the stairs. Here, wear this." She removed one of the bands from her wrist and slipped it onto his. "It's a silent alarm. I'll activate it when it's time to go up and when it's time to come back down. Remember, ignore me, and get up those stairs."

"I owe you," he said and meant it. He took her arm and headed back inside with her. As they re-entered, the frantic leader of the orchestra came running over.

"There you are!" he gasped. "You nearly scared me to death. Are you ready?"

"Yes," she answered, "I just need my instrument."

"I've already got it," he said tugging her away from Picard and back through the crowd. Picard saw the man run up on stage. He quieted the orchestra then asked for everyone's attention. "As promised, we have a very special performance for you tonight in honor of our peace delegates. Please welcome the lovely Shea."

Shea took her stringed instrument in hand and stepped onto center stage in the midst of a polite applause. Picard watched her in surprise for a moment, then stirred himself into action. He discreetly worked his way around the backside of the crowd to the base of the stairs. He spotted the plant and stood next to it waiting for her signal.

The music started slowly. A complicated mix of classical and modern. Very nice, he thought, somewhat unusual in its format. People seemed to be paying attention. He casually reached down and felt for the tricorder. His fingers found it and he tucked it under his arm. Too bad its cumbersome size prevented him from hiding it in his clothing. He wished he had a compact one from his own time. Someone might notice he was holding a piece of unauthorized equipment at a social event.

The music was growing stronger, more rhythmical. A low sweet chant began. He realized it was Shea's voice he was hearing. Softly sensual but clear and strong at the same time. He felt the band on his wrist vibrate, time to go. He turned, stepping around people who had lined up along the bottom few steps of the stairs to get a better view. He crept softly behind until he reached a step above them, giving him a clear view of the stage.

He saw that Shea had placed the guitar on a stand out of reach yet it continued to play. It was obvious that this was no recording; somehow she was controlling it, creating the music spontaneously. Her body moved and swayed sensuously with the rhythm, her voice growing stronger and more insistent. The mesmerizing music seemed elemental, almost primitive, and yet strangely complex. The crowd was transfixed and so was Picard. The metal band that Shea had slipped onto his wrist vibrated again, he ignored it. Then it _shocked_ him. The sharp pain woke him from his trance. He tore himself away and slipped upstairs.

Activating the jerry-rigged tricorder, he neutralized the security force field at the top of the stairs then reactivated it once through. He followed the directions Shea had provided, moving swiftly down the hallway to the office belonging to Admiral Saunders. Using the tricorder again, he deactivated the security lock on the automatic door. It slid aside and he was in. He closed the door behind him and left the lights off lest he bring unwanted attention.

Even in the dim light from the uncovered windows, he spotted his target. A computer terminal sat in clear view on Saunders' desk. Starfleet command's security programs proved no more difficult to circumvent than those he'd previously encountered on the _Enterprise 1701._ Accessing the main computer terminal and downloading the coordinates of Forever World took only a little longer. He glanced at his watch and smiled. Time to spare. He might as well put it to good use. He accessed the Internal Affairs' investigation reports on the status of the disappearance of the Sword of Kahless and began reading. The Klingons had just turned over the physiological readouts of the Klingon mystery woman this afternoon and the investigators had wasted no time in instigating a program to compare those readouts against the records in their central databank. Compared to the computers of his era the program would run painfully slow, but not slow enough. They'd have their answer by early morning. He weighed his options. Meddling with events in the past could have unforeseen ramifications in his own future. Picard didn't dare erase the data on Shea. Her incarceration was an historical fact in his time. But he needed her assistance in the here and now if he were to make his escape. Perhaps he could safely slow the investigation down a bit without altering the timeline in its essence. He put a small glitch in the search program. It would delay things considerably. He felt his wristband vibrate again - time to return.

He tucked the tricorder back under his arm and headed for the door. He thought he heard a noise on the other side, a glance at his tricorder confirmed it. Someone was walking past, probably a security guard patrolling the hallways, and unfortunately he was headed in the same direction Picard needed to go, toward the stairs. The guard would either have to go down the stairs or turn back. If patrolling, he would probably turn around. Moments later, Picard's wristband vibrated again, but the guard had yet to reach the stairwell. Then as he'd expected, he heard footfalls returning. Just as the footsteps were passing his door again, the wristband delivered a piercing electrical jolt. He slapped a fist across his mouth to keep himself from cursing aloud until the steps faded. He ripped the band from his wrist lest it happen again.

Quietly, he opened the door, checked to make sure the way lay clear, and hurried back, deactivating the force field and re-establishing it as he went. The music was still playing, and people's attention remained fixed on Shea. He descended the stairs without anyone's notice. Shea, still on stage, sang with closed eyes. Her face shown wet with perspiration and her dress clung even more tightly than before. As if she'd spotted him, she abruptly ended her performance.

The applause was thunderous, and everyone seemed to begin talking at once. In the tumult of noise, no one noticed Picard work his way forward to the stage to hide the tricorder in her black bag. The crowd gathered tightly about her, vying for her attention, offering words of praise and appreciation. Somehow, bag in hand, he managed to get next to her on the pretext of assisting with her instrument. She handed the guitar over and whispered urgently, "Get me out of here." He nodded and pushed through the crowd dragging her with him, making excuses to the well-wishers. A few moments later, they were out the door. The quiet and cool night air hit them like pleasant shock. Once sure no one followed them, the two stopped to talk.

"That really seemed to take it out of you," he observed.

"Hypnotizing an entire crowd like that is hard work," she acknowledged. "So did you get what you needed?"

Picard smiled and patted the black bag.

"Whew!" She laughed and her eyes sparkled with new found energy, "Nothing like living dangerously."

Picard also felt elated but tempered it with caution. "It's not over yet. I still need a ship to get me there. You said you might know someone?"

"Yes, he owns a small fleet of his own. I hope to convince him to lend us one. He has an estate in the Virgin Islands and is sending a shuttle to pick us up in the morning."

"Someone from Starfleet?"

"No, a private entrepreneur of sorts. He dabbles in the entertainment industry and has been trying to get me to turn professional."

"I can see why. Where did you learn that kind of music? I've never heard anything like it."

"I don't know. It just seems to play in my head," she said.

"It really was quite amazing."

"Careful. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."

He forced himself to temper his enthusiasm. "Merely an observation." He looked away and they fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, it's late and we're both tired," Shea said when the silence stretched too long. "Our transport is supposed to pick us up at eight."

He nodded and forced himself to say the last thing he wanted to. "Perhaps we should each get a good night's rest and plan to meet in the morning." The look that flickered ever so briefly across her face told him the words had taken their toll. He wanted desperately to take them back. Instead he watched her nod and turn away. He didn't stop her though he knew he'd spend the rest of the night regretting it. "You forgot your coat," he said lamely as she walked away.

"Yeah, how 'bout that?" she spoke without turning around, "Maybe I'll just take a walk and see what happens."

He didn't want to think about what would probably happen.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The next morning, Picard made his way through the hotel lobby bustling with a colorful variety of commuters on their way to various destinations. A few wore Starfleet uniforms but the majority were private citizens. He did his best to blend in while waiting in the transporter area for Shea to arrive.

It was nearly 8 a.m. and no sign of her. He had never known her to be late and he began to worry that he had so offended her last night that she had finally deserted him. He'd certainly given her cause enough, he thought regretfully. He was beginning to consider his options, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a woman he'd seen earlier wearing dark wrap-around glasses dressed in a severe hooded civilian business suit. It took a moment for him to recognize that it was Shea. No doubt she had been observing him for some time-probably enjoying his increasing distress.

"Our transport should be here shortly," Shea informed him with cool formality, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Picard lied. "And you?"

"Actually I was otherwise occupied."

Picard winced internally and they fell into an antagonistic, awkward silence. Picard thought that this shuttle couldn't possibly arrive soon enough. Fortunately, it was on time. When they were transported aboard, the pilot greeted them on behalf of their host and informed them that the journey would take approximately two hours allowing for traffic delays. Picard sat quietly taking note of the pilot's unusual appearance.

The man, who had simply identified himself as Tommy, was a slender youth with long white blond hair and almost colorless blue eyes. His face was very fair and so finely featured that it was almost angelic. He hardly looked like a shuttle pilot. Shea noticed Picard staring at the young man intently and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Tommy's a musician."

"A musician? I hope he knows how to fly this thing."

"I wouldn't worry."

True to his word, Tommy landed the shuttle just short of two hours later on a white beached island surrounded by clear turquoise water. As soon as she jumped from the shuttle, Shea whipped off her hooded jacket letting the sun reach her bare shoulders and slipped off her shoes to feel the warm sand. She looked at the ocean water longingly, but Tommy shook his head.

"Not now," he said firmly. "He's expecting you."

Shea sighed and looked back toward ocean and the low sun reddening in the oncoming evening. "Maybe tomorrow."

Tommy led Shea and Picard up a set of wide stairs leading to a huge sand colored mansion. There he pressed his hand against a pair of carved wooden doors easily twice Picard's height. The massive doors swung inward and the three stepped into an enormous glass covered atrium filled with lush green plants, ribbons of splashing waterfalls and noisy exotic birds flying freely about.

"Seems a bit much," Picard said, looking around.

"You're absolutely right," a smooth deep male voice answered him. "In fact, it's more than a bit much. It's excessive, but then excess is what I'm known for."

Picard turned in the direction of the voice and saw a man standing with his arms folded watching them. Picard guessed the man to be in his mid-thirties although he could easily have been ten years in either direction. He stood half-a-head taller than Picard- wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped in a pair of black jeans, with straight sandy-blond hair to the top of his white collar. While the man was undeniably handsome, his most arresting feature was a pair of pitilessly cold ice-blue eyes. The man smiled graciously, but it filled Picard with the unpleasant image of a shark.

"Hello, Derek," Shea greeted him. "I'd like you to meet my friend. This is John Pike. John, this is Derek Jacobs."

Neither made any move to shake the other's hand. Derek chuckled softly, then turned his attention to Shea. He strode over to her, caught her in a warm embrace and kissed her as if there were no one else in the room. Then with his arm slid possessively around her waist, he guided her toward a door on the far side of the atrium. Just as Picard was beginning to wonder if they planned to ignore him completely, Derek called over his shoulder.

"Come along, Mr. _Pike_!" he spit the name out as if it had something wrong with it. "Let's see if we can solve your little problem."

Picard followed them into another room where the decor changed so abruptly it was hard to believe they were even in the same house. This room was an old-fashioned library with wall to wall shelves of leather bound books stretching from a dark wooden floor to a deeply carved wood ceiling. Shea plopped into an oversized red-leather sofa while Picard glanced around at the books' titles. He recognized the names of classical novels, treatises and historical texts. Some appeared to be incredibly old.

"Quite an impressive collection," Picard said and meant it.

"Thank you," Derek replied. "I see you are a man who appreciates fine literature, a vice we share. I have a number of first editions and original manuscripts. You're a Shakespeare fan?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Here then, take a look at this. It should interest you." Derek tossed him a sealed box. "Press the small latch on the side."

Picard did as instructed and the box lid slid open revealing a yellowed handwritten manuscript. He looked at it closely.

"_Twelfth Night_. But surely not an original manuscript?" he observed almost jokingly.

"Definitely the original." Derek smiled in return. "One of my favorites. You're familiar with the play, of course"

"Yes, of course." Picard studied the writing. _Could it possibly be what Derek claimed?_

"A romantic farce where people are not quite who or what they appear to be."

"Quite so," Picard focused on the man more closely, wondering if there were some hidden message in his words. Derek took the box from him and casually flung it onto a nearby table.

"However did you come by it?" Picard asked.

"Courtesy of Mr. Shakespeare, of course," Derek said with a half-laugh then sat next to Shea and put his arm around her stroking her bare shoulder. "I enjoy collecting rare precious items, things I find unusually interesting... it gives me a great deal of pleasure."

The implication of Derek's words combined with his possessive pose with Shea was not lost on Picard. He steeled himself to conceal his annoyance and took a seat in a matching winged leather chair across from them.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Pike?" Derek asked.

Picard took the opening and launched into his tale of being an ousted trade consortium member concluding with his need for transportation back to the Orion sector to reclaim his interests. Derek listened politely until Picard had finished.

"Quite a story," Derek commented. "It must have taken some time to concoct such a convincing one. While I appreciate the entertainment value, if you want my help, you'll have to do better. I'm not as gullible as your Starfleet types. Lies are my specialty. I know one when I hear it."

Picard wondered just what kind of man he was dealing with. He instinctively didn't trust him, but Derek was Shea's friend so he looked to her hoping for guidance. She seemed tense, but she took the lead.

"Derek, you keep telling me anytime I need a favor to call you. Well, today I need a favor. I need a ship for John to use."

"But you don't want to tell me why," he concluded. "No matter. For you, my dear, anything. Your friend there can rot for all I care, but for you..." He ran a finger along her cheek. "Just remember, everything has its price. I'm sure Mr. Pike would agree."

Picard dug his fingers into the arm of his chair. "No, I don't think I would."

"Of course you would." Derek turned to him. "We each must pay the price for our choices. You certainly know that."

Derek stood and tugged on an old-fashioned bell pull. Tommy entered the room along with two other young men who looked so similar in appearance, Picard thought they must be triplets or clones.

"Show Mr. Pike to the guest room," Derek told them. "He'll be staying until morning."

"I don't wish to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but we have urgent business," Picard informed him. Shea's eye's widened slightly at the word _we_. He didn't want to leave her here, not with this man. "Shea and I are in a bit of a hurry."

"What a shame. Especially since at the moment you have no ship at your disposal." Derek's smile disappeared and his voice dripped with malice. "I suggest you accompany my boys. Now please."

The three men surrounded him obviously ready to do battle if he resisted their escort service. Tommy and his companions had suddenly taken on a distinctly menacing quality.

"Tomorrow morning will be soon enough," Shea interjected. "Please go on ahead, John. I'll see you in a bit."

Responding reluctantly to the pleading look in her eyes, he allowed himself to be led upstairs. They herded him into a room which they identified as his host's guest quarters. When his escorts left, he tested the door and was displeased, but not surprised, to find it locked from the outside. It was evident that Derek intended to collect his fee for the favor he had promised Shea. Picard paced the room angrily. Perhaps she didn't mind paying his_ price_, but Picard sure as hell resented it.

There's nothing to be done about it, he told himself firmly. It was her choice, not his. She had brought them here, and undoubtedly had known full-well what Derek's conditions would be. He forced himself to stop pacing and lay down on the bed staring up at the strange panorama of satyr-like figures carved into the dark wood ceiling. They seemed to depict some mythological tale. It must have cost a small fortune, he thought - more evidence of his host's lavish lifestyle. At some point the ceiling lost its interest. The nearly sleepless night before his flight here began to take its toll and he dozed off at last.

He awoke later in the dark. He called for lights, but apparently they were not voice activated. Suddenly, he sensed he was not alone.

"Shea?" he said hopefully.

"No, sorry to disappoint you."

The lighting rose gradually allowing Picard's eyes to adjust. Derek sat at the foot of his bed staring at him intently.

"What the devil?" Picard demanded.

Derek smiled at the question and chuckled softly. Picard jumped up and stepped away from the bed. He wanted to put some distance between them.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to know who you are, where you came from and why you're here."

"I've already told you."

"You told me a fabrication. Now I want the truth, as far as you know it." Picard remained silent, so Derek continued. "There's something odd about you, Mr. Pike. You're... out of sync, as if you don't quite belong here. Are you from another dimension? An alternate reality, perhaps?" Derek held Picard's gaze with an icy stare. "Or another time? Ah, that's it, isn't it? Past or future? Future, I'd say. Yes."

"What's going on here?" Picard demanded. He'd said nothing yet everything seemed to be coming out. Shea must have told him. "I've said no such thing."

"Nonsense, you've said everything," Derek smiled, "Except why. So now tell me why?"

For some reason, Picard felt compelled to do just that. "It was unintentional on my part... I was pushed."

"Pushed? By unseen hands? Through the Guardian of Forever I'm guessing. And now you want to go to the Guardian to see if you can get back. Oh, that's a much better story than the one you made up," Derek nodded with satisfaction and stood up, "Go back to sleep now. We'll speak again in the morning."

Derek exited the room slamming the door shut behind him and the lights immediately went off. Picard searched for a way to turn them back on but only succeeded in stubbing his toe on various invisible objects. He gave up in frustration and lay back down on the bed in the dark. He wasn't used to feeling so helpless. He hoped morning would come soon. Time ticked by agonizingly slow before he finally nodded off again.

When morning light filled his room, Picard woke to find he had company again. This time he was relieved to see that it was Shea. She sat there looking slightly damp, probably from that swim she had been wanting.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I am. Did you think I was in danger?"

"I'm not sure what I thought. Derek is a very peculiar individual."

"Yes, I grant you that, but he's also an incredibly wealthy individual with his very own starcruiser. It's up there, waiting for us." She pointed skyward. "He wants to give us a tour of it, so hurry up and get ready. I'll meet you downstairs." When she left, the outer door remained ajar. He was no longer a prisoner.

Picard might not like this Derek fellow but he wasn't about to turn down a ship. He joined Derek and Shea at a dining table set up in the middle of the atrium. An elegant breakfast had been laid out. He didn't like the idea of eating the man's food either, but he suppressed that objection as well. He needed that ship.

Derek sat back watching Picard with some interest. He had changed from the casual jeans and white shirt of the previous evening into a paisley silk jacket, white ascot and dark slacks. He looked every inch the sophisticated Victorian. Picard felt distinctly plain in his gray civies.

"By the way," Derek said, addressing them both with a smile. "I thought you might be interested to know that Starfleet has issued a warrant for Shea's arrest. Something to do with a missing sword? I believe the charge is treason."

"_What_?" Shea exclaimed, "That...that's ridiculous! There must be some mistake."

"No, my dear. It's no mistake. When you go back to Starfleet, you'll be arrested. It's no surprise to you, though, is it, Mr. Pike?"

Shea looked at Picard. "You knew about this?"

"I... I glanced at the investigation records in the Starfleet computer," he admitted. "There is some evidence that would seem to implicate you, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"Ah, but you always knew it would, didn't you, Mr. Pike, your being from the future and all." Derek flashed him that same shark smile. "I suppose you didn't think it prudent to mention it, seeing as how you needed Shea's help?"

"There was nothing I could do to prevent it."

"You mean there was nothing you _would_ do," Derek said accusingly, "Too risky for your timeline. Poor poor girl, you're about to be ground under the crushing wheels of fate. But don't worry, I'm sure it's all for a good cause."

"Why have I been accused?" she asked Picard."Is this your doing?"

"Shea, believe me, this had nothing to do with my appearance here, or your decision to help me. I would never knowingly do anything to incriminate you," he said firmly.

"And you'll do nothing to absolve her either," Derek added.

"I can't. I wish it were possible, but it just isn't. History must unfold as it is meant to. I dare not interfere," he argued hotly, then turned to Shea, "I'm sorry, truly."

Shea stared at him in shocked silence.

"Well then, I suppose there's nothing else to say," Derek stood and circled the table coming toward Picard. "The deal is done."

Picard rose uncertain what would happen next. Derek whipped out a remote and moments later they transported aboard the promised ship.

Picard looked about. This bridge was about half the size he was used to but it was sleekly designed for a ship of this day. He checked the control instruments and saw that he was familiar with their configuration. The ship was designed to be controlled by one person with the aide of automatic piloting devices. Picard felt confident he could operate it.

"This cruiser was specially designed by yours truly. It's quite a prize," Derek was obviously enjoying this, "It has a few unusual features you're bound to appreciate, especially in light of what you are about to undertake. You'll be pleased to know that she can travel at speeds equaling any Federation starship. It's equipped with a formidable arsenal, more than adequate. However, I would appreciate your avoiding a pitched battle if at all possible. But then, I shouldn't think you'll have any problem evading detection, since I have also equipped it with a phased cloaking device."

Picard felt his pulse quicken in alarm. "But that's impossible. The first phased cloak won't be invented for another..." he stopped himself, "How did you procure such a device?"

"You have your little secrets, and I have mine. Let's just leave it at that. I would appreciate your returning my ship in one piece. I could have another one built, but it would be somewhat inconvenient."

"We'll take good care of it," Picard answered.

"We? You still want me to come with you even if it might mess up your timeline?" Shea asked.

"Yes, I do. Very much," he said turning to her. "It's up to you, of course. I don't pretend to know if or how this might affect what is about to happen. Perhaps nothing more than delay your arrest, but I do know that I would appreciate your company." He took her hand gently to emphasize the last. Shea smiled tentatively, then nodded in agreement.

"A tender moment," Derek sneered. "Just remember, Shea, I'll be here waiting. Have fun while the play lasts, children, until the final act comes."

Derek activated his remote and disappeared in a transport. Picard was glad to be rid of him at last - the_ pompous, lecherous, son-of-a_... He willed the angry thoughts away. He had a ship and that's what they'd come for. As the victory sunk in, he smiled at the prospect of getting back into space on his own terms. It might not be the _Enterprise_ but it was a starship and for now it was all his.

He took the Captain's chair and waved Shea into the co-pilot's chair. The ship powered up at his touch, all systems coming on line. He took out the tricorder he had carried with him continuously since the night of the reception and transferred the coordinates of Forever World into the ship's navigational system. Course laid in, he set the propulsion controls to maximum Warp and gave the command to the computer, "Engage." The ship's engines pushed them smoothly into warp drive. This was a very nice little ship, indeed. Shea watched him at the helm.

"You just love this, don't you?" she asked.

"What?" he asked distractedly.

"Being in command of a ship. Is that what you do?"

"Please. Don't ask questions I can't answer."

"All right then, I'll stick to the present. How long until we get there?"

"Three days. We'll travel with the cloaking device engaged. It slows us slightly but will prevent detection which is even more important than speed at the moment."

"Three days. Are you planning on sitting in that Captain's chair for the entire time?"

"No, that won't be necessary. The automatic piloting program is fully capable of operating the ship. The alarm system would alert us if any problem develops."

"Well then... we've got three days and three nights to fill. Got any ideas?"

Picard looked at her for a long moment then activated the automatic pilot. "Yes, as a matter of fact," he replied, "Why don't we begin by exploring just what this ship has to offer."

He took her by the hand and exited the bridge. They found themselves in a hallway lined with doors on either side. Picard opened the first one on the right. A kitchen.

"Very nice," he observed, "but not what I had in mind."

The door on the left opened up to a well-stocked game room and liquor bar. He closed it and went to the next door. Inside was a small conference room.

"I don't think we need to schedule a conference at the moment," he said and she laughed a little. The engine room at the end wasn't what he had in mind either, but a door with the scrolled initials 'D.J.' caught his eye. "Let's try that one," he pointed.

Inside was a well-appointed room obviously meant as the Captain's quarters. An oversized bed sat prominently in its center.

"Perfect."


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Data kept his vigil in front of the Guardian. He literally hadn't moved from this spot since Picard's disappearance. After exhausting all possible approaches to reactivating it, he had resigned himself to waiting. The _Enterprise 1701-E_ remained in orbit, also waiting. The members of the Guardian of Forever Research Team were less complacent. They continued to pace and fume and bicker among themselves, unable to admit defeat.

It can't be dead, they argued. It was simply impossible that Captain Picard could have altered history in a way that would affect the operation of the Guardian, itself. Wasn't it? It must have merely gone dormant, a resting period perhaps. Just because such a period had never been observed before didn't necessarily mean that it was an unusual behavior for the Guardian. After all, human experience with the Guardian was only a fragmentary scrap in its existence. They couldn't judge what was normal for it based on their limited observations.

Data ignored them. He had his own theory as to why the Guardian was silent. He had observed Q conversing with the Captain just prior to his disappearance and surmised that Q was responsible for the Captain's subsequent leap through time and the shut-down of the Guardian. Q had a disagreeable habit of meddling in Captain Picard's life. It appeared that he had done so once again.

Data had shared his opinion with the now Acting-Captain Riker. Riker was also familiar with Q's history of gross interference in their affairs and accepted Data's theory as the most likely explanation.

After two days of silence from the Guardian, Starfleet ordered Shea to continue with her assignment to return the missing Sword of Kahless at the upcoming ceremony as scheduled. After a long heated argument, she finally agreed, and returned to the ship to have her normal appearance restored. It wouldn't do for her to offer a public apology for dishonoring the Klingon Empire, while looking like a Klingon.

Shea had been successful in learning the Sword's location before her return to this time period. It was simply a matter of retrieving it from its hiding place on that Klingon outpost she had escaped from - leaping back to the present just before the guards on her heels rounded that last corner. She hadn't wanted them to see her exit their time, but she hadn't anticipated Picard would take her place. In retrospect, she should have put the sequence of events together.

Shea and the Sword weren't expected on Qo'noS for another nine days, but Starfleet wanted the Sword retrieved well ahead of schedule. Her instructions were to pilot a shuttle craft to a mid-point rendezvous with a Klingon Bird-of-Prey sent by the High Council to escort her. She reluctantly agreed realizing that her continued vigil here served little purpose. Commander Riker escorted her to the shuttle.

"I'll send word when the Captain returns. Hopefully in time to attend the Ceremony," he told her as they entered the bay.

She nodded pensively. Riker stepped into the shuttle with her away from prying eyes.

"You seem worried," he said taking her hand, "Are you anticipating a problem at the Ceremony?"

"No," she tried to smile reassuringly at him, "I just wish we were all going together as planned. I don't like leaving things unresolved."

"I don't like it either," he agreed thinking she was referring to their relationship. Making sure no one could see, he took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. "Good luck," he said. He watched as she closed the shuttle door and waited for clearance before departing. He hated to admit it but he had thoroughly enjoyed these last few days of the Captain's absence. He was growing increasingly tired of sneaking around. A part of him hoped Picard might never return. The thought shocked and shamed him a bit. He decided that when his Captain did return - and he did hope for that he told himself stubbornly - he would finally get everything out in the open. No more deception. He also hoped that he'd still have his commission afterwards.

Final clearance was given and Shea launched her shuttle into space, headed toward the rendezvous point. She wasn't particularly looking forward to this journey knowing she'd have too much time on her hands-too much time for worrying, and too much time around Klingons. She and the Bird-of-Prey both arrived at the rendezvous point on schedule and she docked the shuttle per their instructions. It irritated her that she was being put on board a Klingon vessel. She had started getting used to dealing with Worf, even taking a perverse pleasure in annoying him. But he was a well-trained Starfleet officer and his Klingon attitudes were tempered by a long association with humans. Dealing with raw Klingons was another matter entirely.

Captain Mofga and his Second met her as she exited the shuttle. Both were attired in the traditional garb of Klingon warriors bristling with metal and leather, and concealed weapons. It was meant to be intimidating. Shea gave them the traditional Klingon salute which they returned perfunctorily.

"My Second will show you to your quarters, Commander," Captain Mofga informed her in a surprisingly civil tone, "Do not venture forth unaccompanied. My crew may not be as polite as I am."

She nodded and followed the officer through the metal lined corridors of the ship. Like all Klingon warships, it was devoid of decoration or even basic creature comforts of carpeting and padded furniture. He showed her into her room. It wasn't any more inviting than the rest of the ship.

"When do we arrive?" she demanded. It was best to be forceful when dealing with Klingons.

"Two days to the outpost, five more to Qo'noS," he answered. "If you want to leave your room, summon me first. Otherwise I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I'll go where I choose with whom I choose. If your crew forgets their manners, it'll be _their _safety that cannot be guaranteed."

He snarled at her and left.

Despite her posturing, Shea chose to spend the majority of her time in her quarters. She preferred its stark isolation to the aggravation of being around members of a race she found so generally disagreeable. Her choice suited her hosts as well since it greatly reduced the possibility of her finding out that all was not as it seemed.

Behind locked doors in the bowels of the warship lay a figure in quiet repose waiting to be roused at the appropriate moment. Shea's Klingon hosts wanted to be sure that the sleeper not be discovered prematurely by their guest.

Two days later, Shea transported down to the surface of the same Klingon outpost she had escaped from in the past. The current Klingon governor greeted her in customary Klingon fashion, in other words, rudely. Shea ignored it; she wasn't in the mood for Kinglon insult games. Seeing that she refused to take offense, the governor made a few disgusted noises, then allowed her to go on her way... accompanied by two of his armed security guards, of course.

Shea remembered the path she'd taken while stealthily following Admiral Saunders in the past. He had unknowingly led her into the abandoned mine shafts which ran below the administrative offices of the governor himself. She smiled at the irony of the fact that each succeeding Klingon governor on this outpost had been sitting right on top of the buried Sword all these years. Using the narrowed beam of a blaster borrowed from one of the guards, she cut away at the surface of the rock face.

She had watched Saunders slip the Sword into a crevice then melt the rocks into a solid mass sealing the opening. Much of the natural rock formation contained the same base metal used in the construction of the Sword. It would have been almost impossible to detect its location through the use of any sensory devices. She had never liked Saunders particularly, but she had to admit he'd been clever and he'd almost gotten what he wanted. War between humans and Klingons.

She worked carefully so as not to damage the Sword beneath. The last bit of rock finally fell away and she handed the blaster back to the guard. Reaching in, she pulled the long primitive Sword free from its airless tomb, still gleaming and untarnished. The guards yelled in triumph and slapped her roughly on the back to congratulate her. She put up with it, barely.

Upon seeing her emerge with the Sword in hand, the governor became a little more respectful. He even offered her a mug of Warmog, a Klingon ale, to celebrate. She politely refused and he was offended as there is no polite way to refuse to share a drink with a Klingon. She knew it and didn't much care. She had other things on her mind. Shea and the Sword transported back up to the Bird-of-Prey under the baleful stare of the governor who probably would have happily wrung her neck if politics didn't preclude it.

When she materialized on the transporter pad, she was surprised to find herself facing three Klingons with full-sized blaster rifles trained directly on her. She recognized the Captain and his Second, the third she hadn't seen before.

"The Sword!" demanded the Klingon she didn't recognize. He seemed to be in charge. Shea handed it to him thinking once he had it, they would stop this nonsense. He took it by the ornate hilt with his unarmed hand, and smiled at it admiringly. Then he opened fire on her. She saw it coming and twisted out of the way, but the other two fired as well knocking her to the floor. All three fired again steadily, making sure there was no room for error. She screamed as she felt the searing rush of heat burning into her until she felt nothing at all.

On the bridge of the Bird-of-Prey, Commander Koroth, Lord of the House of Dagtah, smiled as he twirled the Sword of Kahless in his hands, watching the bridge lights reflect in the blade's gleaming surface.

"This Sword shall lead us to victory. Gowron is as good as dead," he said with obvious satisfaction. "Your service to me shall not go unrewarded, Captain Mofga."

"It is an honor to serve one who honors the old ways, Lord Koroth." Mofga saluted him.

"And how are our guests doing, Captain?"

"Everything is under control."

"Good. I think it's time to remind them of their purpose."

Together, Koroth and Mofga made their way to the lower decks where Koroth had once hidden himself. He was glad that Commander Shea was out of the way now, so that he could have free run of the ship once more. Koroth gave his command and password, and the door before them slid aside. Commander Maddox jumped to his feet when they entered.

"Is our clone well, Commander?" Koroth asked him.

"Yes, yes, she's fine," Maddox tried to sound confident but his voice cracked. "The implant is fully functional and can be activated when you are ready. Your program is already in place."

"Excellent. You may yet live through this. As long as you remain of value."

Maddox swallowed hard. He was a scientist, not a soldier-he wasn't used to dangerous situations. He struggled to keep calm. If only the real Shea could have helped him. Although he'd been nearly as afraid of her as he was of these Klingons, he'd hoped to find a way to warn her and gain her aid, but the chance had passed him by. It was too late.

Koroth stood looking at the still figure that was identical to Commander Shea in every respect. Then he pressed a panel on the wall. A small door opened, and a rectangular platform rolled out bearing the cold refrigerated body of Commander Shea. He carefully compared her to her clone - yes, no one would be able to tell them apart. They were absolutely identical, except of course for those ugly blaster burns on the Commander's torso.

Despite the terrible wounds, she would still be an excellent source of tissue samples. He looked forward to seeing the look on Damon Torak's face when he offered for sale that which Torak had first tried to market to him. Koroth nodded in satisfaction, his plan was going perfectly. He touched the panel again and the platform slid back into the wall and snapped shut.

"We arrive at Qo'noS in four days time," Koroth addressed Maddox. "Make sure the clone is ready to attend the ceremony on the following day."

Maddox nodded nervously, "She'll be ready."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Picard was thoroughly enjoying his last few days in the past. He and Shea spent the majority of their remaining time together locked in each other's embrace. When the cloaked cruiser adopted an orbit around the planet known as Forever World, a quiet buzzing alarm stirred Picard to awareness. He rose from the bed and quickly checked the ship's status. They had arrived undetected as planned. Shea was still sleeping peacefully. He slipped back beside her to prolong the moment just a little longer. His movement disturbed her and she came to a half-conscious state resulting in a soft contented purring. He smiled at this feline characteristic of hers that he had only recently discovered. He pressed her close to him feeling the low vibration that emanated from her and tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head telling him to get moving. Finally it forced him to get up and get ready.

He watched her for a long moment hating the need to leave her. Especially in light of what he knew lay ahead. He couldn't help but feel responsible. After all, if he hadn't sent the Shea of his time back here, there would have been no hard evidence to connect her to the crime, only whatever Saunders must have originally manufactured. His heart ached knowing he could do nothing to save her from falling into the cruel hands of the Klingons. They would have no pity for the one they believed had dishonored the great Kahless.

He would see her again, of course, but the future Shea was not the one he knew now. In her youth there was a sweet innocence about her missing in his own time. There seemed little chance of picking up with the future Shea where he was leaving off with this one. No doubt she would blame him for her imprisonment. That could explain her future motivation in choosing an assignment on his ship-to seek revenge against him. He hated to think so but he couldn't dismiss the possibility. There was no question that he had selfishly used her to promote his own interests and failed to defend hers. The necessity of protecting the timeline justified his doing so but the personal guilt remained. There was no helping it, he knew, and he steeled himself for what he must do. He reached over to wake her.

"We've arrived," he announced.

She looked at him sleepily for a moment then snapped to full awareness. "Do they know we're here?"

"No, we're still cloaked. Get dressed."

Picard took the helm once more and deactivated the automatic pilot. The ship's sensors confirmed that the planet was completely surrounded by a detection grid just 100 meters below their orbit.

"How are you going to get past that?" she asked.

"This is no ordinary cloaking device. It phases the ship into a time-space distortion allowing it to pass through matter. When fully engaged, this ship is not only invisible, it actually ceases to exist in this reality. These devices have proved highly unstable, but so far this one appears to be working admirably well. I'll have to boost the power to it by another 20 percent to complete the distortion, but only long enough to move us past that grid."

Picard's hands tapped and adjusted the controls. The engine hummed louder and the lights dimmed. The planet and stars blurred in the viewscreen as the ship lurched forward. He immediately cut power.

"We're in." He shook his head. "It's almost too easy."

"It seems nothing is safe with you around," she smiled back at him.

He nodded in response, obviously pleased with himself. "Well, I hope everyone down there finds a soft place to land," he said. He tossed a handphaser to Shea and gestured for her to join him on the transporter pad from where he addressed the ship's computer again. "Computer, arm phasers, stun level, wide spread. Fire!" As soon as the ship fired its phasers at the research settlement below, he ordered, "Engage transport."

Picard and Shea materialized on the planet surface outside the settlement buildings where they crouched behind a low retaining wall. Half a dozen people could be seen lying on the ground. Two more security personnel raced out of the building to assist their fallen comrades. Shea and Picard caught them in their phaser blasts knocking them to the ground beside the others. Picard checked his tricorder readings. Two more inside, probably sending a distress call. He motioned Shea to circle around. She disappeared on the other side of the building and they entered each side simultaneously, surprising the two scientists within. He and Shea fired immediately.

"The stun will only last about 15 minutes," Picard told her as he grabbed the arms of one of the men on the floor. "Give me a hand here."

Together they lifted and carried the man, who appeared to be the head research member, to the control panel in front of the Guardian. Picard noted that the massive time portal looked exactly the same as it did in his own time - not that he had expected anything else. Picard laid the unconscious man's hand on the scan plate and the force field between them and the Guardian shut down. Picard stepped up to face the Guardian.

"Guardian, I have traveled to this time period through you from the future. Do you have knowledge of this?"

The Guardian's deep voice seemed to fill all the available space around them.

"I AM IN ALL TIMES AT ALL TIMES, THEREFORE, ALL THINGS OF TIME ARE KNOWN TO ME."

"I think that was a 'yes'," Shea commented. Picard nodded and prepared his tricorder to record the playback.

"Guardian, play back the period of time at which I entered your portal in the future," he requested.

"IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO PLAY BACK THAT WHICH HAS YET TO OCCUR."

"You stated that you exist in all times, past, present and future, therefore it must be possible for you to play back my own time."

"AT EACH MOMENT OF MY EXISTENCE I CAN ONLY REVEAL THE EVENTS WHICH HAVE PRECEDED THE PRESENT EXISTENCE OF THOSE WHO APPEAR BEFORE ME."

"If I understand you correctly, you are saying you can only show me my past?" Picard was thinking furiously.

"CORRECT."

"The future is my past!" Picard insisted.

"NOT IN THE PRESENT."

"This makes no sense," Picard argued desperately, "Others have entered the past and were returned to their own times through you. Why am I unable to do the same?"

"YOU MUST ENTER AND EXIT THROUGH THE SAME TIME."

"But I have no way to communicate with that portal," Picard replied, "I need to return now!"

"ALL THINGS MUST OCCUR IN THEIR OWN TIME."

Picard racked his brain. "Can you contact your future self to have me returned?" he asked hopefully.

"I CANNOT INTERFERE, I CAN ONLY OBSERVE."

"Can you at least tell me _when_ I will return?" he asked in exasperation.

"I CANNOT ANSWER."

"Is it possible that I may never return?" he asked softly losing hope.

"ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE."

"Is there nothing you can do to assist me?" he demanded more forcefully.

"NOTHING."

Picard shook his head then sat down heavily on the ground, defeated. Shea knelt down behind him and wrapped him in her arms.

"Is it really so awful being here? With me? " she asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

He turned to look at her. It really wasn't such a terrible prospect, he thought.

"It doesn't appear I have much choice in the matter," he observed. He tried to fathom the possibility of never returning to his own time. "In truth, it never occurred to me that the Guardian might refuse my request. I thought I'd either return to my own time or die trying." He noticed her expression and said, "you don't seem too surprised by this turn of events."

"No, not really. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected this might happen," she admitted. "I can't say I'm sorry it did."

"But all this effort for nothing. Why did you let me do it, if you knew it wouldn't work?"

"I didn't know, I merely suspected, and you never would have given up without trying."

"True enough," he agreed. But now that he had tried, he felt oddly relieved to still be sitting here with her beside him. He'd done his best. He'd made every effort.

"I'd like you to stay," she said. "I've thought about what we might do. I made a plan for us."

"What kind of plan?" he asked.

"Well, first I have to return Derek's ship and try to straighten out this mess with Starfleet."

"They'll arrest you," Picard protested.

"I have good friends in Starfleet," she countered, "I'm sure it will all work out."

"No, it won't I tell you." He scowled, then added impulsively, " We should just leave from here. That ship could take us quite a distance... beyond the reach of the Federation. We'll could some other place. We won't go back, neither of us."

"Aren't you worried about messing with that timeline of yours?" she laughed a little, then looked serious. "Come on, I can't just run out like that. Then it really would look as if I had done something wrong. You and I know I've done nothing to be ashamed of. As for this little adventure with the Guardian, no one has to be the wiser. We can be out of here in an instant. Nobody died; no real harm done, and we'll be certain to leave no trace of ourselves. With that phased cloaking device they'll have to assume it was some advanced alien race they have yet to encounter."

"Shea, you're dreaming if you think you're getting out of this scot-free. I know my history and you end up in prison."

"But if you stay, you can testify for me. I'll be cleared. As I should be. I like my life in Starfleet and I don't want to give it up. And there's no reason I have to. You know who really stole the sword. You can help me clear my name, then you can join Starfleet in this time period. With your abilities, you could have any position you want. Think what a team we would make."

Picard found her suggestions tempting at first then slowly realized with growing horror the ghastly consequences that could result if he followed them. Picard took a deep breath and made himself get to his feet. He stared at the portal he had thought would be his deliverance. It was a bitter realization that it had turned out to be a dead-end.

He was out of options. Shea had to return to continue her life without him. As much as he might like to, he couldn't possibly go with her. On the other hand, he certainly couldn't stay here either. He took out his phaser.

"Stand away!" he told her, motioning her back with his empty hand. She looked at him curiously but obediently backed up until he nodded.

"I don't think you can threaten the Guardian into cooperating with you," she said in amusement.

"I don't intend to."

He fired the phaser at the control panel intentionally setting off the emergency back up system which immediately activated a secondary force field around the Guardian. He knew that only a direct command from Starfleet Central would release it. He was now sealed inside.

"John, what are you doing?" she was clearly alarmed.

"Shea, I'm sorry." Picard struggled for words to express his feelings. "These past few days with you have been wonderful. I'd give anything for them to continue, anything except the future as I know it. If I stay here I could change that future drastically. You were absolutely right when you said nothing is safe with me around." He paused thoughtfully for a moment.

"Shea, I want you to listen to me. When we next meet, I won't be as appreciative of you as I am now. I hope you will forgive me for that. If history unfolds as I anticipate, you are about to experience some very difficult times. When things look especially bleak, try to find comfort in knowing that you will survive. You have to, because... at some point we have to meet again," he smiled sadly. He then spoke again with the force of authority, "I want you to return to the ship now."

"No, I'm not leaving without you," she said stubbornly.

"You'll have to. I can't go with you."

"Well you can't stay here!"

"I know. Please go," he told her. When she didn't move, he spoke more urgently. "They'll be waking any moment. You must leave _now_!"

Shea stood her ground and crossed her arms determinedly. He hadn't wanted to do this in front of her, but she'd left him no choice. He turned the control device on the phaser to overload. It began to hum. Shea ran up to the edge of the force field.

"No, John! Turn it off!" she yelled.

The hum was turning into a high-pitched whine. It wouldn't be long. He took one last look at her - then he closed his eyes bracing himself as the whine reached a deafening crescendo drowning out Shea's cries. Suddenly, he felt himself thrown violently backwards toward the portal and he felt the stomach wrenching sensation of falling.

"_Oh God, I must be I'm dead. I hate being dead_!" Commander Shea's thoughts swirled in the darkness. She despised being cut off from all sensory input, trapped within a non-functioning shell. Dead and yet not dead. _Those Klingon bastards_! she cursed. She concentrated on determining the state of her body...severely injured. This would take some time. Her secondary nervous system had already kicked in racing to make repairs. She could almost feel the cells regenerating, at least, she thought she could almost feel it. Probably just wishful thinking... when her body was this bad off, she didn't feel anything for awhile.

Her mind raced reviewing recent events. The circle of time was coming together, the ends were beginning to meet. She wondered if Picard would ever return. Perhaps he really had died in that explosion so long ago. She might never see him again, then again, she might. _ Hurry up_, she told her body, _I want to live, I want to know_.

She had no concept of time other than the thoughts that raced through her mind. Gradually, sensation returned. Searing pain at first - she welcomed it. Gradually, the pain lessened and she began to be aware of the more subtle aspects of life, a hard cold slab beneath her, vibrations from distant engines, a heartbeat, faint at first then slowly growing stronger, followed by the sudden rush of air into her lungs.

Her eyes flew open eagerly but she encountered only darkness. She wiggled her fingers and toes experimentally then felt around at the four icy metal walls enclosing her. She was in a refrigerated container of some sort. She searched painstakingly for some way to open it finally concluding that it was sealed from the outside.

After a long while there were voices outside. She lay quietly, listening. They came closer... footsteps, metallic clinks. She felt a humming vibration under her and the platform she was on began to slide forward. She held her breath, closed her eyes and tried to look as dead as possible. When she was completely free of the enclosure, she peeked. Two male Ferengi's were standing there arguing with each other in their native tongue while they sorted through razor-edged medical instruments.

Fortunately they had yet to notice that her body was no longer disfigured with charred blaster wounds. She quickly reached up and jabbed them in the throats disabling their vocal cords then grabbed their tender oversized earlobes bringing them to their knees grimacing in silenced agony. They were trying to scream but all that came out were strangled croaking noises. She threw one on the now empty platform then slammed the drawer shut sealing him in. She turned to the other whose ear she still held in her grip.

"If you value living, tell me whose ship this is."

"Damon Torak's," he squeaked at barely a whisper.

"How did I get here?

"Lord Koroth sold your remains to us."

"Where are we now?"

"Enroute to our home world."

"Show me a computer terminal."

He pointed to a small screen on the far wall.

"Access it. No tricks." She dug a claw slightly into his ear to emphasize her point. He twitched then turned on the screen. "Call up the ship diagram," she ordered. Staring at the diagram, she quickly found what she needed. "Good."

She opened another panel in the wall with a recessed platform, tossed him in and closed it up. She could hear the two of them scrabbling at the walls inside. Eventually, someone else would also hear them, but not before she gained control of this ship.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Oh, Jean-Luc, always so dramatic!" Q floated about, gesturing with his arms. There seemed to be absolutely nothing around, above or below, just an empty grey nothingness. "Not that I'm criticizing, mind you. What an exit! Such a grand gesture-such pathos. I'm sure she was very impressed."

"Am I dead, Q?" Picard asked looking around in confusion.

"No, of course not. I rescued you... at the last possible moment, of course. It seemed only fair since I'm the one that got you into this in the first place."

"I should have known."

"No need to thank me. I was glad to do it. Didn't you have a marvelous time though? What an adventure! You have a little different opinion of Shea now, don't you? I bet you just can't wait to see her again." Q beamed at him, obviously pleased with himself.

"Q, all you've done is to further complicate an already difficult situation. The feelings I developed for Shea in the past simply aren't appropriate in the present." Picard looked about, puzzled. "Am I in the present?"

"No, you're in the _Nothing_. Ready to go home now?"

"Quite."

Q waved his hand and Picard found himself stepping out of the portal of the Guardian of Time. Data was waiting for him.

"Captain, welcome back," Data greeted him.

"Thank you, Mr. Data. Q has finally seen fit to return me."

"I suspected his involvement," Data remarked without surprise.

Picard looked around, things had changed a bit since he had left. For one thing, Commander Shea was nowhere to be seen.

"How much time has passed since I went through the portal?" he asked.

"Ten days, sir."

"That's the same amount of time I experienced in the past," he said wonderingly.

"Not surprising, sir," Data stated, "Q suspended the functioning of the Guardian in this time period apparently for the purpose of trapping you in the past. If it had continued its normal operation, it would have immediately returned you as you had no business going in the first place."

"Yes," Picard nodded, "that makes sense. I tried to return through the Guardian in the past but it was unable to help me. I simply had to wait for Q to end his little practical joke."

"I trust that you are unharmed, sir?" Data inquired.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied.

"Was it an interesting experience for you, sir?" Data asked.

"You could say that," Picard replied.

"I will look forward to reviewing the events of your time travel when it is played back through the portal," Data commented.

"I beg your pardon?" Picard looked at him in alarm.

"I'm sure the technicians will have the Guardian playback your experiences in full. That is standard procedure." Data smiled his best smile at him, "Congratulations on joining the celebrated few who have made such journeys."

Picard viewed the portal with distaste. "In full?"

"Yes, sir." Data was still smiling.

"_Merde_!" he muttered then turned back. "Status report, Mr. Data."

"The _Enterprise_ has remained in orbit during your absence. Eight days ago, Commander Shea took a shuttle to rendezvous with a Klingon Bird of Prey. They escorted her to a Klingon outpost at the edge of the Empire to retrieve the Sword of Kahless and then proceed to Qo'noS, where the presentation ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Picard exclaimed, "Can we get there in time?"

"It would require exceeding the Federation guidelines for Warp Speed in non-emergency situations."

"You let me worry about justifying our speed." He tapped his chest forgetting he no longer had his comlink badge. "Data, have us transported aboard."

Minutes later, Picard was on board and back on the bridge. Data calculated that at maximum Warp, the journey would take less than 18 hours.

"Make it so," Picard ordered from the Captain's chair. He watched the stars zoom past on the main viewer and allowed his thoughts to speed with them. In 18 hours, he would meet Shea once more. And he had no inkling of what he would say or how she would greet him. The non-fraternization rule had been a farce from the beginning, a ruse created by Admiral Conners. Picard considered a confrontation with the man, but then what Commander Shea did with her free time was really none of his business. He had no claim on her. What had transpired between them in the past would be ancient history as far as she was concerned. Unless she blamed him for what had happened to her after he had left her. Would she be glad to see him alive? Or was she here to make sure of his death? He hoped for the former but couldn't fault her if it turned out to be the latter.

Perhaps they could make peace. He resolved to apologize, remove the non-fraternization restriction so long as she agreed to exercise some limits. It didn't seem to be serving much purpose anyway, if his suspicions about Riker were true. At least they wouldn't have to pull into port every three weeks. He would take some pleasure in denying Conners that much. His new comlink interrupted his thoughts. It was Dr. Crusher.

"Captain, please report to sickbay for a physical."

"Doctor, I'm not due for another 3 months."

"Captain, you've been lost in the past for ten days," her voice became insistent. "Who knows what you might have picked up."

"I'm sure the transporter's bio-filter would have screened out any viruses or bacteria I may have encountered," he argued.

"Not necessarily," she countered.

"Beverly, I have a lot on my mind right now. Besides I feel fine... truly!"

"Captain, do I have to pull rank as Chief Medical Officer?"

"No, Doctor," he sighed. "That won't be necessary."

Picard reported to sickbay. Beverly motioned him to lie on one of the empty biobeds and he reluctantly complied. She began running her tests.

"I hope this won't take long," he grumbled.

"I'll try to be my usual efficient self," she smiled.

He harrumphed in response, which only made her smile more. After a period of time, her smile faded. She kept rechecking her readings.

"Doctor, didn't you just do that same test a moment ago?"

"Yes, but something must be wrong with my instrument. This can't be right. Let me get another one."

She got another bioscanner. She continued to scowl. She got out a third bioscanner. She put all three side by side, comparing them.

"I've taken three separate readings with three separate bioscanners each of which appears to be fully functional. On each occasion I have gotten exactly the same results. It's impossible that they could all be giving me the same erroneous readings. I must assume that the results are accurate." Her clear blue eyes looked at him closely. "Jean-Luc, how do you feel?"

"I told you. I feel fine." He sat up, took a deep breath and thumped himself in the chest soundly in demonstration. "Better than fine."

"I'm not surprised. You seem to be approximately ten years younger than you were ten days ago."

"What? How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Did you find the 'Fountain of Youth' somewhere in your time travels?"

"I don't think so..." his mind was working furiously. What was it Q had said? Something about her _curative powers_? Was this the result?

"Perhaps it was something you ingested," she commented.

Picard's face flushed a warm shade of crimson. He couldn't possibly tell her.

"Jean-Luc, just what have you been doing?" she looked at him in amazement.

"I, um... I'd really rather not discuss it." He started to get up. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I think you'd _better_ discuss it!" Beverly insisted. "Something has had a very dramatic effect on your health and as the ship's doctor, I need to know what it was. If you have any idea of the cause, you _have_ to tell me."

"Beverly, I'm not sure you want to hear this," he said. She crossed her arms and stared at him stubbornly. It was obvious she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. He remembered what Data had mentioned about the Guardian playing back his experiences in full detail and realized his privacy wouldn't be protected for long. He'd better tell her himself. He took another deep breath. "Very well. When I went through the Guardian, I found myself on the _Enterprise 1701 _in the year 2173. The very first person I met was _Lieutenant_ Shea. I solicited her help in my endeavor to return to the present and in the process we... well, we became... close. I suspect that this may somehow be the result of that encounter."

Beverly's face dropped for just a moment then she recomposed herself. "I see. And just how many of these _encounters_, did you have?" she asked sharply.

"You want a number?" When she nodded expectantly, he replied, "I really couldn't say exactly."

"All right, let's try it this way. You were gone for 10 days. On which day did your first encounter take place?"

"Beverly, I really don't think-"

"Answer me, this may be important."

"The first day," he sighed.

"The first day?!" her mouth flew open slightly then she clamped it shut again. She took a deep breath. "Did you have additional encounters over the next nine days?"

"I believe, there were two evenings when we were not together."

"Two. I see. Would you say that these encounters added up to thirty hours or more?"

"Thirty? I'm not sure. The last three days were a bit...intense." She was glaring at him now. He spread his hands apart and smiled apologetically. "There really wasn't much else to do."

Beverly was incensed now. "You've _bonded_ with her! Your bio-rhythms have adjusted to hers. That's why you've been rejuvenated!"

"Bonded? I don't understand. What are the aspects of this _bonding_?" he asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, but it looks as if we're going to find out."

Beverly was clearly upset. He wished he hadn't been forced to tell her. Their close friendship had never quite progressed beyond that point but there had always the feeling that someday it might. He should say something helpful, something to soothe hurt feelings...

"Perhaps... I should go now," was all that came out.

"Yes, you might as well. You're obviously in the pink of health." She smiled stiffly and turned away.

Picard hesitated. There was something else he needed to know. "Beverly, before I go, would you mind running one more test. I want you to do an extensive brain scan. Check for any anomalies especially in the parietal lobe ... anything at all."

"Why?" she demanded.

"I'd really rather not say," he replied.

"Fine," she replied curtly and grabbed her equipment while he waited. The scan took some time. It wasn't a common procedure for a standard physical. Throughout the examination, Beverly worked in complete silence. After finishing the scan, she pronounced that there was no evidence of any anomaly in his brain whatsoever. He thanked her with an amazed smile and left.

Not long after, Dr. Crusher paid a visit to Counselor Troi. Meanwhile, Picard sought his own type of counseling. He went to see the ship's resident expert on the subject of Commander Shea.

"Data, I have some questions related to your knowledge of Shea's history." Picard sat down on an oddly shaped green chair in Data's quarters. "In your readings, did you come across any references to her 'bonding' ability?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to elaborate?"

"Please."

"Shea bonded to a number of men, each of whom seemed to be affected in his own unique way. However, there were some experiences common to them all - improved health, heightened perceptions, increased physical strength." Picard looked at his hand clenching it into a fist. That would explain how he had so easily dealt with the obnoxious Lt. Jake, he thought to himself. Data continued, "Some experienced emotional instability."

"Emotional instability?"

"Yes, sir. A few individuals became obsessed with her even to the point of violence. One such individual's obsession is described in great detail in the biography I mentioned."

"I should like to read it. Will I find it in the ship's library files?"

"No, sir. It was never published in book form. It is written on the walls of a museum dedicated to Shea's memory by the author."

"A museum! It sounds as if the author himself was one of those obsessed individuals."

"In his own way, I suppose he was, but not because he had ever bonded with her. His writing describes his employer's obsession, a man by the name of Derek Jacobs."

"Derek!"

"Yes, sir. Is the name familiar to you?"

"Indeed it is. I actually met the man."

"But, sir, he lived nearly ...," Data's eyes lit up with understanding, "Ah, of course."

"What does the author say about him?" Picard asked.

"It is quite lengthy. The biography is as much about him as it is about her. Shall I summarize?"

"Yes. Briefly, Data, and only as it pertains to Shea." It was always good to set limits with Data, he could talk for hours on the nature of a gnat.

"Briefly, sir. After Shea left Starfleet and later ceased her terrorist activities against the Klingon empire, she became an entertainer in the field of music, under the guidance of said Derek Jacobs. She was highly successful. The two were apparently inseparable until something transpired between them that the author did not seem to fully understand. But her reaction to whatever occurred was profound and she stole one of Mr. Jacobs personal starcruisers and departed. There are no further reports on her activities until her recent return."

"What happened to Derek?"

"That was a most interesting development. He and the musicians residing with him subsequently vanished leaving the author in possession of all his personal belongings. There was an investigation into the possibility that they had met with foul play but nothing was ever proven."

"How did the author depict Derek and Shea's relationship?" he asked.

"It would most certainly not be considered a healthy one by normal human standards. The author described a number of excesses on the part of his employer. He also suspected that Derek may have been responsible for the mysterious disappearance of some of Shea's suitors. He described his employer as having an increasingly pervasive control over her. He even convinced her to send her child away to be raised by friends. The author expressed great surprise that she ever broke away from him and surmised that whatever occurred must have been particularly horrific."

"The man sent away his own child?" Picard asked.

"According to the author, the child was not Derek's. She gave birth while incarcerated following her arrest for the disappearance of the Sword. That was approximately two and a half years prior to her involvement with Derek Jacobs.

"I see. Did the author say who the father was?"

"No, sir. He did not know."

"Was the child half Klingon?"

"No, sir, he was human."

"Human," he echoed. The implication near took his breath. "Data, once this current crisis is over, I would appreciate your researching the records to see if there is any reference to the father." Picard then added quietly, "And please keep your findings confidential."

"Yes, sir," Data replied, his yellow eyes twitching with curiosity.

"Thank you, Mr. Data. You've been most helpful, as always."

Picard took his leave and returned to his quarters where he mulled over what Data had told him. He didn't like the sound of any of it, particularly the part about individuals like Derek who seemed to have lost their minds. He prayed he hadn't traded one form of mental deterioration for another.

He decided he'd better get some rest before they arrived at Qo'noS and laid down on his bed not bothering to change his clothes or pull back the covers. The room and the bed itself felt depressingly empty. Shea had denied that he could become physically addicted to her but the aching need in his body made him wonder.

He ordered the lights off and closed his eyes determined to quiet the roar in his mind. Then his door chimed. He roused himself again, calling for the lights and invited his visitor to enter. Commander Riker marched in looking very intense.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Number One," Picard answered patiently. "Have a seat."

Riker started to sit then immediately stood again. He paced for a moment then forced himself to sit down. Picard watched with some interest.

"You seem troubled," he said. Riker also seemed unable to speak, so Picard continued. "Will, I know our relationship has been a bit strained of late. A situation for which I must take much of the blame. I hope you realize that I have no complaints about your performance as first officer of this ship. I also want you to know that I intend to make some changes around here that should ease some of the tension which has plagued us recently."

"Does one of those changes involve your becoming romantically involved with Commander Shea?" Riker asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Rumor has it that you've _bonded_ with her."

"Now how the hell do you know that?" Picard demanded.

"It's true then!" Riker exclaimed.

The door chimed.

"Come!" Picard yelled in irritation.

Counselor Troi hurried into the room.

"Will, what are you doing here? What I told you was strictly confidential. I can't believe you would act so childish," Deanna scolded him unmercifully.

Picard listened in amazement. He was just about to interrupt when his door chimed again. This time he walked over and opened it personally.

"Oh!" Dr. Crusher stood there looking slightly embarrassed, "Jean-Luc, I... I thought we should talk."

"Why, yes, Doctor, by all means. Do come in and join the crowd!" Her face fell when she saw Troi and Riker. "Tell me, Doctor," Picard continued, "Are we expecting anyone else at this free-for-all? Perhaps I should invite Admiral Conners to join us as well."

"Conners? What has he got to do with this?" Riker asked.

"As long as we're pulling all the _skeletons_ out," Picard said hotly, "I think you should know he's been chasing Shea all over the Galaxy, making appearances at every one of our ports of call."

"And how do you know that?" Riker demanded.

"I, too, have my sources of _privileged_ information, Number One," he glared at Beverly and Deanna meaningfully.

There followed an uncomfortable silence with the two women exchanging guilty looks.

"Maybe it's healthy things are finally out in the open," Deanna assumed her role as Ship's Counselor, "We've all been acting rather badly and we all owe each other some apologies."

Beverly and Riker nodded in agreement. Picard just watched them. He was in no mood to apologize to anyone at the moment.

"Captain, what is it you intend to do?" Riker asked, still on edge.

Picard spoke very clearly enunciating his words carefully, "First, I intend to make an appearance at the Dedication Ceremony tomorrow. Next, I intend to bring Commander Shea back on board and to lift the non-fraternization restriction from her." Riker's delighted expression confirmed Picard's suspicions as to the nature of their relationship. The realization made him speak even more sharply. "And then I intend to dump Admiral Conners on some God-forsaken planet where he can damned well find his own way back home. After that we shall continue with our mission."

"I see," Riker smiled uneasily. "I don't mean to be presumptuous, sir, but what is it that you intend to do... personally?"

"I know what you're driving at, Number One, but-"

Picard's response was interrupted by another chime of his door. He sighed deeply and plopped himself into a chair. "Come," he said wearily.

Guinan entered, her long purple gown flapping gently around her legs. She stopped abruptly and looked about in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I see you have company. Perhaps I should return at another time," she offered.

"Guinan, it's not often you pay me a visit. It must be important," Picard surmised. When she nodded, he stated, "Then I think you should remain. What is it you wanted?"

"Captain," she said seriously, "I understand that when you traveled to the past, you bonded with Shea-"

"Doctor!" Picard interrupted glaring at Beverly, "Does _everyone_ on this ship know about this?"

Riker responded, "Actually I was the one who told Guinan. I wanted her opinion."

"I haven't mentioned it to anyone else, Captain," Guinan said.

"Good!" Picard snapped, "See that you don't! This is getting completely out of hand. I can't believe you people are running around discussing my personal life."

"We're just concerned about you, sir," Deanna said sincerely.

"This may affect us all, Captain," Guinan said, clasping her hands before her. "I think you should be very careful."

"I appreciate your concerns, everyone, but I'll handle this myself, if you don't mind." Picard rose to his feet trying to herd them all out the door. "At the moment, I intend to get some much needed rest. I suggest you all do the same. Good night."


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It was a long time before Picard was able to shut off the clamor in his mind, but eventually exhaustion claimed him. When Data informed him of their arrival at Qo'noS, it seemed as if he had barely slept at all.

"How long until the Dedication Ceremony, Mr. Data?" he asked.

"One hour 23 minutes," Data responded precisely.

Picard considered the time available. "Locate, Commander Shea. I want a full report from her before the ceremony begins."

"Understood."

Picard took his time getting showered and dressed. He was thankful to be back in familiar surroundings. He checked his formal dress uniform in the mirror. It reminded him of the last formal affair he'd attended, 98 years ago. His memory of those events were very fresh in his mind, but for Shea they must seem a very long time ago indeed. He wondered if those ten short days in such a long life as hers would still hold any meaning, good or bad. He would soon find out. He made his way to the bridge.

"Mr. Data, have you contacted Commander Shea? I want that report."

"I am having some difficulty, sir."

"Explain."

"Commander Shea is still aboard the Klingon Bird-of-Prey which, like us, is in orbit around Qo'noS. Its captain reports that she is preparing for the ceremony and is unavailable."

"Unavailable? Put me through to him."

Captain Mofga's craggy face loomed on the main viewer scowling at him. Picard was not intimidated. Klingons always wore that expression.

"How may I assist you, Captain Picard?" Mofga greeted him with unusual politeness for his race.

"Captain, I need to speak with my Commander prior to the ceremony," Picard explained. "Please have her beam aboard my ship."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but that is impossible," Mofga replied curtly. "She must prepare for the presentation and cannot be disturbed. You will see her then."

The image immediately cut off.

"Hail him again."

Data tried to reconnect the link. "No response, sir."

"What's going on? Why can't I speak to one of my own officers? Keep trying, Mr. Data." Picard turned to his security officer. "Mr. Worf, what do you know about this Captain Mofga?"

"An excellent military record," Worf answered. "A traditionalist. That is all I have heard."

"Run a check on him and his ship," Picard ordered. "Find out whatever you can. Make it quick."

"Yes, sir." Worf went to work. Meanwhile, Data reported that two persons from the Klingon vessel transporting down to the planet - the readings matched Commander Shea's and that of a Klingon male.

"Captain," Worf said urgently upon completing his research, "I have learned that Mofga's ship was unaccounted for at the time of the attack on Rigel 3. There is also a rumor that Mofga has promised his support to Lord Koroth of the House of Dagtah."

"Captain," Riker interjected, "if Mofga attacked Rigel 3, he may have the missing clone."

"A distinct possibility, Sir," Data commented. "If so, the Dagtah's may be considering a switch. They may have programmed the clone to perform some act or insult that would undermine Gowron's position on the Council."

"Yes, that would be my suspicion as well, Mr. Data." Picard nodded grimly. "If a clone is down there, we'd better find out. Run a scan on the Bird-of-Prey. Look for any evidence that the real Commander Shea may still be on board."

Data scanned the ship. "There is one male human aboard, but no sign of Commander Shea. The remaining lifesigns are all Klingon."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Captain?" Riker asked.

"Dr. Maddox," Picard concluded grimly. Riker looked worried and nodded in agreement.

"We have to be at that ceremony. Make ready and assemble the senior staff in the transporter," Picard ordered.

A few minutes later, Picard joined them. He surveyed them in their formal attire - Riker, La Forge, Troi, Worf, Data and the Doctor. He had to admit they made a handsome appearance. He turned to Beverly Crusher.

"Doctor, I need you to stay behind. Get Shea's clone out of your freezer, we may need her yet. Did Data familiarize you with the workings of that positronic linking device?" She and Data both affirmed it. "Good. I need you to program it with the presentation speech Shea was to give. If we can't locate the real Shea, we may have to use her clone to pull this off."

The remainder of the group transported down to the entry of the Grand Hall. The Klingon guards at the door were impressively garbed in formal military armor. They saluted the Starfleet representatives and bade them enter. Picard led the way across the ancient stone floor.

The entry opened before them into a massive rotunda supported by twelve stone pillars each easily six feet in diameter. The pillars were decorated in colorful raised relief depicting the legendary exploits of Kahless the Unforgettable. Dozens of religious clerics from the monastery of Boreth lined the walls waiting for the ceremony to begin. In addition, the room was teaming with representatives from every known civilization which had dealings with either the Klingon Empire or the Federation. The chatter, clicks and squawks of alien conversations filled the air around them.

In front of the milling representatives, was a large dais upon which sat the secretly cloned replica of Kahless enthroned as the Emperor and spiritual leader of the Klingon people. Behind him Picard could see Shea sitting at the back with the members of the High Council. She was dressed in a formal Klingon styled gown with the revered sword resting in her hands. If he could speak with her he would soon know if it was really her. He approached the steps leading to the dais. Two armed guards immediately blocked his way.

"I need to speak with my officer," he informed them, speaking in their native guttural Klingon.

"No one may approach the Emperor or any of the participants in the Ceremony until after the presentation is made," the tallest of the guards warned him.

"But..." Picard started to object.

"It is forbidden!" the second guard snarled at him. Picard backed off. Making a scene was exactly what he wished to avoid.

"Data, is there any way to get a brain scan on her at this distance."

"Not in this crowd, sir. The readings would be heavily distorted."

Picard turned to Deanna, "Counselor, can you tell if it's Shea or not?"

She shook her head, "I can't read her empathically, Captain. I'm sorry there's no way for me know."

Picard sighed in irritation, "If only I could talk to her. I certainly can't tell by looking."

Geordi pushed past them and stood peering at her through the crowd. He came back to Captain Picard.

"Maybe you can't tell by looking, sir, but I can. That's definitely _not_ Shea."

"How can you be so certain, Mr. LaForge?" Picard inquired. "Her appearance is identical in every respect."

"Not to me, Captain. When I look at people I see an energy field. Shea glows so brightly it's almost hard for me to look at her. What I see when I look at that woman up there is dull and nearly colorless. That's not Shea!"

"A clone then," Riker said softly.

Picard nodded grimly. "Then we must assume that Commander Shea is either missing in action or..." He refused to give his fear a name. "Data, get a good look at that dress she's wearing."

Data stared for a moment. "I have it memorized, sir."

"Good. Return to the ship and have a duplicate created. Prepare our clone for an exchange with this one. Make a note of her position and perform a simultaneous transport on my command. I don't need to remind you that we have little time to spare."

Data nodded and left quickly. Picard knew that a diversion would be needed to successfully complete the transport without anyone noticing. This time, he would have to come up with one himself. He discussed several possibilities with his officers, but none of them seemed foolproof. They were running out of time. His comlink buzzed and Data's voice came over.

"We are ready, Captain."

"Very well, Mr. Data. Hold for my order."

"Captain, something is happening here," Data spoke again. "A Ferengi Vessel has just entered orbit and is attacking Captain Mofga's Bird-of-Prey."

Picard's eye's grew wide. "We may have just had a diversion provided for us," he informed the others.

The members of the High Council were all on their feet issuing orders. News of the attack had obviously reached them as well. Shea's clone remained seated apparently uninterested in the disturbance. Picard could see that no one was looking in her direction.

"Now, Data! Do it now!" he ordered in an urgent whisper.

A shimmering distortion in Shea's seated figure could be seen as the simultaneous transport took place. For a brief moment the sword disappeared then reappeared in her hands. Picard looked around. In the reigning confusion no one appeared to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Exchange complete, Captain," came Data's report.

"Well done, Data. Now tell me what's going on up there.

"The Ferengi vessel has been identified as belonging to Damon Torak. Captain Mofga's ship is returning fire. Recommendations, Captain?"

"Stay out of it, Data."

"Yes, sir."

While those on the planet below were scrambling to determine what exactly was going on, the real Commander Shea was launching a small war of her own. She had programmed the Ferengi computer to perform a series of automated attack maneuvers. The Ferengi crew were rattling around in the cargo bays where she had summarily transported them and locked them within. Captain Torak was still crying about the fact that she had transported his two top aides into his private storage locker where they were quite happily taking stock of his pilfered treasure of gold pressed latinum - which, of course, had been completely intentional on her part.

The Bird-of-Prey was still struggling to raise it's shields in the face of her surprise attack. If her aim had been accurate, those shields would remain down. She transported herself and the struggling Damon on board. The two materialized in the lower levels where they were less likely to be detected. It was also in the vicinity where, Damon Torak had informed her under some duress, that he had seen her clone during his negotiations with Koroth over her remains.

"Lead the way, Torak," she ordered. He grimaced slightly under her grip then pointed off to the right. She pinched his ear a little more, "Are you quite sure?" He seemed to reconsider and instead pointed to a door at the end of the hall in front of them. She nodded and pushed him towards it. She had to steady them both as the ship shuddered under the ongoing Ferengi vessel's assault that she had programmed.

The door wouldn't open without the proper clearance so she blasted the controls, forced it aside and shoved the Ferengi through ahead of her. Instantly, a pasty-faced man with dark hair leaped to his feet. She registered his initial panic and his science officer's uniform. "I assume you're Commander Maddox?" she said.

"Yes, yes! Are you really her?"

"Yes, really," she answered. "Where's the clone?"

The ship lurched violently again and Maddox clung tightly to an empty platform.

"It's too late!" He shook his head desperately. "They've already transported it down. The ceremony may have already begun."

"Well, this little sky show may slow them down some," she replied.

"You've got to stop the clone!" the man was nearly frantic, "She'll destroy everything!"

"Okay, calm down," Shea said. "I'll need something to wear."

He then realized she was unclothed. Ferengi's don't normally dress their live women let alone seemingly dead ones designated for tissue samples. Maddox slid open a side door revealing two identical formal gowns. "These were designed for your clone in three different sizes. We weren't sure exactly which would fit her since we weren't sure what her maturity level would be when finally activated." He grabbed the furthest one on the right. "This one should do. There's only a fraction of difference in your heights."

He explained Koroth's plan to her as she quickly slipped on the dress along with the shoes he tossed her. Torak shook his head at her now that she was fully clothed. "Disgusting!" he said.

"You know I think Ferengi's are the one thing that could finally make me enjoy wearing clothing," she said. She tugged at the dress. It was a little tight. The ship shuddered again reminding her of the urgency to leave.

She punched in her remote hoping that the Bird-of-Prey's return fire had not crippled the Ferengi transporter. To her relief she felt the beams kick in. The three of them materialized in the rear of the Grand Hall on the planet below.

"Captain," Data hailed. "Three individuals have beamed down to the Great Hall from the Bird-of-Prey. I am unable to get a clear reading on them due to the increased energy distortions from the battle."

"Worf!" Picard ordered, "Look around. See if you can figure out who that is."

Data continued his running commentary. "The attack of the Ferengi vessel has begun to take on a repetitious pattern. The Bird-of-Prey appears to be anticipating its moves. The Ferengi ship has suffered damage to its main phasers and aft engines. Its shields are down. A boarding party from the Klingon vessel is transporting aboard."

"It appears that the fight is over, Number One," Picard addressed Riker. "I look forward to finding out what it was all about when this ceremony is over."

Riker nodded solemnly. Their clone of Shea was rising to her feet to address the Council with the speech Data and the Doctor had programmed. Riker suddenly grabbed Picard's shoulder and pointed. "Look!" he exclaimed.

On the dais there stood not one but two Shea's identically garbed except for the fact that one held the Sword and the other a Ferengi hand-phaser. The conversational buzz in the room came to a complete silence as the occupants realized the peculiar nature of the scenario before them.

The one with the phaser reached over grabbing the Sword then fired. Her mirror image disintegrated in a red haze. The Klingon guards were finally shocked into action and ran towards her. She gingerly dropped the weapon and held her open hands up in front of her.

"Relax everyone. It's all right. That was an imposter," she said calmly.

Commander Maddox called out from behind her. "She had to destroy it," he announced breathlessly, "It was equipped with an implanted incendiary device designed to kill everyone on the High Council. In another 30 seconds, it would have blown up!"

Picard and Riker exchanged alarmed looks. Picard slapped his comlink, "Data, transport the clone 300 meters off the port bow and activate shields!" The seconds ticked by, "Data, report!" Silence, then finally, Data's voice.

"Completion of transport was followed by an explosion off the port bow. No damage to the ship."

Picard realized he had been holding his breath and allowed himself to breathe again. He looked over to the dais where Shea stood smiling at him. He had never felt so relieved on so many levels. He smiled back. Maybe she didn't hate him after all.

"Now that's Shea!" Geordi said emphatically.

"I know," Picard replied still smiling. Then he noticed Admiral Conners standing beside him and his smile slowly faded. Lord Gowron nodded to Shea and she stepped forward. She held the Sword of Kahless above her head and addressed the High Council with her prepared speech.

"It has been too long since an injustice was done to the Klingon Empire and its people. A sacred trust was violated. The memory of Kahless the Unforgettable was dishonored. I, Shea, have come to return his Sword to its rightful place and to redeem the honor of those who cherish the memory of Kahless' heroic deeds. To restore that honor I offer up my own by personally and publicly apologizing for -"

Picard had heard enough. "Hold it!" he yelled, "You don't owe anyone here an apology."

Conners grabbed his arm, "What do you think you're doing?" Picard shook him off and marched up the steps. The guards again went to block him but Lord Gowron, leader of the High Council, was well acquainted with the Captain and waived them away.

"What is it that you wish to say, Captain Picard?" Gowron asked. Now it was Picard's turn to address the Council. Shea lowered the Sword and stood watching him.

"Emperor and Members of the High Council, it is true that a great injustice was done. That injustice was not only to the Klingon people but also to the one who has come here to offer her honor in exchange for yours." The Klingon crowd growled in response. Picard continued, "It is true that the Sword of Kahless was taken by a member of Starfleet, but the thief was not Shea." Picard ignored Conners' horrified expression. "The one who stole the Sword was the late Admiral Gregory Saunders, one of the most highly regarded officers of his time. To protect him, Shea was wrongly accused and wrongly punished, and now comes before you to admit to a crime she did not commit. She has endured a perilous journey to learn where the Sword lay hidden and is the apparent author of the battle which just occurred above your planet, all to return the Sword to its rightful place of honor. We have exposed a plot to destroy the High Council. Your position has been strengthened, and a potential civil war has been averted. Our efforts were for the express purpose of restoring the Honor of the Klingon People and to preserve the existing peace between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. I submit to you that the old wounds are now healed."

Gowron considered his words carefully. There was certainly nothing to be gained by discrediting the Federation and the extent to which they had gone to return the Sword could be considered an honorable compensation for past deceits. Yet he was not sure it sufficiently compensated for the loss of a personal humiliation. Even though the thief himself was no longer alive, there was the question of who had inherited the disgrace. He was about to pursue the matter further when suddenly Worf burst into the middle of the scene dangling a squirming Ferengi in his clenched fist.

"I believe this Ferengi worm has information which would be of interest to the High Council!" Worf announced. He dropped the little humanoid unceremoniously on the floor. Damon Torak scrambled to his feet and adjusted his rumpled uniform angrily.

"I will not be treated with such disrespect!" he said. "I am Damon Torak of the Ferengi Alliance and I demand compensation from that man." He pointed to Lord Koroth, who growled threateningly at him.

"Silence, fool!" Koroth warned.

"I will not be silenced!" Torak snapped back, drawing himself up to his full height of four and a half feet. "You sold Shea's body to me. You assured me she was dead! Look at her!" he gestured at Shea, "Does she look dead? I've been cheated! My ship is ruined. I demand compensation!"

"Lord Koroth has been trafficking in human flesh!" Worf pronounced, "He is without honor!"

"That can't be the real Shea!" Koroth argued, "I killed her myself. There is no dishonor in disposing of a dead body. That woman has to be another clone!"

"Wait a minute," Shea interrupted. "You're arguing it's okay to kill me. It's just not okay if I'm still alive at the time of the sale?"

"Selling you would be dishonorable," Gowron informed her, "but he would be well within his rights to kill you in revenge for the dishonor of his family."

"His family?" Picard asked.

"Lord Koroth is a direct descendent of Commander Whargh-Tog, whose ship the Shea destroyed without warning 95 years ago," Gowron answered.

Shea whistled,"You people really know how to hold a grudge. But if we go by your standards, then I was well within my rights to kill old _Warthog _and his crew for the dishonor they did to me."

"That's Whargh-Tog!" Koroth growled in offense.

"Whatever... Anyway, the bigger issue here is a little more current. Commander Maddox...?"

Maddox took his cue. "Koroth and Captain Mofga kidnapped me along with a clone of Shea to use in an assassination attempt. Koroth wanted it to look as if the death of the Emperor and the High Council was the Federation's fault. Koroth would then have stepped in and taken control."

Gowron had heard enough, and all this talk of clones was making him nervous. He didn't want anyone having a sudden revelation as to the Emperor's origin. He signaled the Guards to restrain Koroth. As they marched towards him, Koroth also gave a signal and a score of his own men jumped to his defense. Suddenly the shocked delegates of hundreds of worlds stampeded in panic as the Klingons' previously concealed knives and daggers clanged and sparked against each other in a desperate battle. Riker and Worf jumped into the middle of the melee struggling to fend off several attackers heading for the Emperor and leaders of the High Counsel. Picard grabbed Deanna shoving her out of harm's way. For a moment it was difficult to tell who was winning, then Gowron's reinforcements rushed into the melee clearly altering the balance of power.

Seeing the battle turn against him, Lord Koroth pulled a hidden disruptor from his cloak and trained it on Shea's back in one last act of revenge. The weapon was set to full power. This time there would be no tissue samples left. Picard spotted what was happening and launched himself at the Klingon knocking the weapon from his hand. It skidded across the floor. Like every Klingon warrior, Koroth had more than one concealed weapon. He immediately pulled out a deadly razor-edged knife taking a slice at Picard with a wild swing. Picard jumped back feeling the tug of the blade as it ripped open the front of his jacket. Koroth lunged for him again. Picard sidestepped and grabbed the wrist holding the knife trying to twist it free. The knife clattered to the floor and Picard kicked it away. Koroth snarled knocking Picard back with his free hand, dived for the disruptor, grabbed it and swung it back around. Picard found himself staring down the barrel of a fully armed disruptor with Koroth's enraged face behind it. Suddenly, Koroth screamed and melted away in a reddened haze. Picard twisted round to see Shea lowering her phaser.

The panic of the crowd gradually calmed as the sounds of battle died away and it became evident that Gowron's men were clearly in charge. The bloodied and defeated traitors were dragged from the hall. Once things had quieted, Damon Torak stomped back up to Gowron. "What about my compensation?" he demanded.

Gowron glared at the little man. "There will be none!" then he signaled his guards again. "Take him away and put him with the others." As soon as the protesting little man had been hauled off, Gowron nodded and rose to his feet. He took the Sword from Shea and held it high above him while facing the congregation.

"The Sword of Kahless the Unforgettable has been returned," he announced. "Our honor is restored. Let the long awaited Ceremony of Dedication begin!"

The line of the clerics stepped forward in unison and the crowd of dignitaries parted respectfully. The procession moved toward the dais to perform the ceremonial rite of dedication. Picard returned to his previous station with his now somewhat disheveled fellow officers. He noticed Shea was no longer on the dais. A moment later, he saw that she had moved beside him. Her silken hair was brushing against his shoulder and he could feel her looking sideways at him. He tried to concentrate on the ceremony and clasped his hands together behind his back to prevent any lapse into that easy familiarity with her to which he had become so accustomed in the last few days of his sojourn in the past.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Thank you for defending my honor." He nodded stiffly without looking at her.

"You didn't have to," she whispered again.

"Yes, I did," he whispered back, still looking straight ahead.

They watched in silence for a few more minutes then she leaned over again. "I'm glad you're all right," she whispered close to his ear, "I wasn't sure if you would make it back."

He nodded rigidly, trying to ignore the tickling sensation of her breath. If she didn't stop, he feared he would explode. She tried again. "I believe the last time you saw me, you were about to blow yourself up with an overloaded phaser."

He turned to look her in the eyes and immediately knew that the memories were still strong in her. His hands unclasped, then he abruptly remembered where he was and tucked them in front of himself under folded arms. He forced himself to face the ceremony, but all he was truly aware of was her presence beside him. The ceremony seemed to go on forever. Finally he couldn't bear it any longer. He turned and took her by the arm. "Come on," he whispered and moved them to a side exit. Together they slipped out quietly.

"We seem to have a habit of leaving parties abruptly," she smiled. They stood in a small alcove. The sound of the ceremonial drums now seemed distant through the heavy door.

"You remember everything," he said wonderingly.

"Of course. I'm glad our memories finally match."

"I feared you would hate me for deserting you, for leaving you to suffer the consequences alone."

"I did hate you at times," she admitted, "but what I feel now is definitely not hate. Though, they say there's a fine line between the two."

"When I saw the clone, I thought you were dead," he spoke softly, "I was afraid I would never see you again."

"I know the feeling," she replied, "That's why I'm here. I needed to know what happened to you and whether our time together held any meaning for you."

"Oh, my dear," he answered, then clasped her to him. Just then the distant drumming stopped. He pulled himself away.

"We'd better get back in there," he said and opened the door a crack. No one appeared to be looking in their direction. They quietly returned and joined the crowd. "We'll talk later," he whispered and left to join the ranks of the primary dignitaries for the final rites of honor. He noticed the piercing stare of his first officer. Apparently their absence had not gone unnoticed after all.

Finally all the rites that must be performed had been performed and all the words that must be said had been said. It was over. Picard and his officers assembled and transported back to the ship exchanging looks but few words. He thought to himself that despite their recent tensions they still worked together as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. He complemented each of them on a job well done then allowed them to go their separate ways.

Picard returned to his quarters to discard his damaged clothing and change into a standard uniform. He had intended to proceed to the bridge but slowly came to the conclusion that he would never be able to concentrate on his duties until some issues had been resolved.

"Computer," he said, "locate Commander Shea - and tell me if she is alone."

"Commander Shea is alone in her quarters," the computer responded.

He tapped his communicator, "Picard to Commander Shea."

"Yes, Captain," she responded formally.

"Commander, I believe there are some things we need to discuss," he replied, "in my quarters."

"Are you sure you don't want me to put it in a memo?" she asked mockingly.

"Quite sure. Report to my quarters, _on the double_," he ordered brusquely.

"Yes sir!"

It seemed only a moment before his door chimed. He opened it and pulled her inside and into his arms. After a moment, he forced himself to separate from her. This is getting out of hand, he thought to himself and stepped a few feet away.

"Perhaps we're moving a little too rapidly here," he said.

"You forget, Captain," she replied and stepped towards him, "I've been waiting 98 years."

"Something tells me you haven't exactly been sitting on your hands," he smiled and backed away, "and we have some important issues which need addressing...such as Commander Riker... and this _bonding_ I seem to have experienced."

"As for Riker, that's really none of your business." She merely smiled at his frown and continued, "As for the bonding..." she shrugged, "What do you want to know?"

"I've been told it can result in mental instability..." he said.

"Only in those who aren't stable to begin with. Don't worry, you may find it difficult to keep me off your mind but you won't lose your sanity," she replied and took a step closer.

"Dr. Crusher reports that my health is greatly improved."

"Of course," she looked into his hazel grey eyes and moved closer laying her hands on his chest. "Not a bad side effect, is it?"

"Shea, I am concerned as to just how much an effect you are having on me," he said softly, breathing in her sweet fragrance, "Someone with my responsibilities can't afford ...

Shea silenced him with a kiss. Picard enfolded her in his arms. Suddenly his responsibilities seemed very far away.

Commander Riker had taken his station on the bridge. Counselor Troi sat in her usual chair two seats over. The Captain's chair remained conspicuously empty. Time passed and Riker began to squirm in his seat, sighing and tugging at his beard repeatedly. He kept glancing at Deanna trying to see if her Betazoid senses were picking up anything unusual.

Deanna stared impassively ahead studiously avoiding Riker's gaze. She was trying to block out the Captain's particularly impassioned emotions at the moment. The strength of his personality in combination with the intensity of his current sensations, made it especially difficult. Sometimes she wished she weren't quite so empathic. She was thankful that her human half prevented a full telepathic link. At least she was spared the details of his immediate activities. Her studied concentration was broken by Riker's voice.

"Deanna, is the Captain coming to the bridge?" he asked quietly.

She barely maintained the frozen mask on her face and resisted the urge to fan herself. After a moment she silently shook her head no. Riker's eyes narrowed. "Computer, locate Captain Picard." The computer responded primly, "Captain Picard is in his quarters." Riker addressed it again, "Computer, locate Commander Shea." The response came immediately, "Commander Shea is in the Ca-"

"Belay that!" ordered Deanna. Riker nodded, scowling harder. He hit his comlink badge, "Riker to Picard." There was no response. He tried again, "Bridge to Captain Picard." A very long pause followed. Finally, the Captain's voice came over the comlink. "Picard here."

"Captain," Riker said controlling himself with some difficulty, "We're ready to leave orbit."

A pause. "Very well, Number One." Silence.

"Your orders, sir?" Riker asked. Another pause.

"Set course for Nimbus III, Warp 5," the Captain ordered finally, "We'll be dropping the Admiral off there. If he hasn't received his orders yet, he will shortly."

"Captain, will you be joining us on the bridge?" Riker demanded.

A long pause, then, "No, uh... not for the present. The...um, strain of the last few days seems to have finally caught up with me. I'm putting myself on leave for the rest of the day. You have the bridge, Number One. Picard out."

Riker stared at Deanna who quickly looked away. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I have the bridge," he echoed. Anybody who cared to notice would have seen that he was seething, but it hit Deanna's empathic senses like a raging fire. She winced slightly. Riker turned away from her.

"You heard the Captain, Mr. Data," he ordered brusquely. "Set course and take us out of here."


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Although Nimbus III was dubbed "The Planet of Galactic Peace", it was anything but. Under the joint rule of the Klingons, Romulans and the Federation, the prevailing government had turned out long ago to be almost no government at all. Too much squabbling and too few decisions resulted in near anarchy much of the time. The people subjected to the resulting chaos petitioned almost continuously for the attention of Starfleet to exert some much needed control. For years, their pleas had gone unheeded... it was a distant world sparsely inhabited and of little strategic value.

Picard felt that Admiral Conners was just the man for the job and had pulled in a few favors at Headquarters to make sure Conners got the assignment. The bewildered Admiral was still in shock when he transported down to the surface. Captain Picard nodded with satisfaction as he watched him go, then exited the transporter room and headed down the corridor.

In the back of his mind he checked for her presence, _Shea? _The answer came instantly, _Yes, I'm here. _ He smiled with the pleasure of it. This is what it meant to be bonded to her as she was now, a full telepathic link. During their time together over the last few days, the bond had been re-established and the link initiated. He warmed to the comfort of it, to never be truly alone. They shared their thoughts at will, their feelings, even their sensations, reflecting them back and forth infinitely in the mirrors of each other's minds. The pleasure of it was indescribable.

Q had actually been right for once, Picard thought. Shea was making him happy, deliriously so. To the point that he was willing to overlook the tensions on the bridge, even to overlook her continued relationship with his first officer. He knew the rumors of this odd situation were flying rampant around the ship - whispers and stares followed him everywhere. Data watched openly curious, while Lt. Worf grumbled and shook his head. Counselor Troi had tried repeatedly to get his attention, to counsel him against his current course of action. Even Guinan had approached him, cautioning him again. And Beverly... well, Beverly wasn't speaking to him at all. None of it mattered. They'd just have to get used to it, he thought stubbornly. He had as much right to happiness as any man. He had sacrificed his personal needs far too long. With Shea, he could have everything he had ever dreamed of. He'd give up Starfleet before he'd give her up.

The thought shocked him suddenly. Part of him knew he was behaving out of character and wondered if this was a symptom of the mental disorder Data had mentioned. He pushed the thought aside angrily. Shea had assured him he was not the type to go insane. She had learned to pick her men very carefully, she had said. Besides, he told himself, in every other respect he was behaving perfectly normal. Except for the first few hours of her return, he had not shirked his duties. The ship was running smoothly, everything was in order... basically. _Basically_, he thought, slowing his steps almost to a stop. This thing with Riker was definitely a problem. Somehow they would work it out, he decided determinedly, and began walking briskly again.

The image of Conners' facial expression during transport appeared in Picard's mind and he chuckled softly. The laughter echoed unnaturally in the corridor. That was odd, he thought, there shouldn't be any echo effect in here. He walked on. He heard footsteps behind him and glanced back to see who was there, but the corridor was empty. He scowled a little, then started walking again... again the footsteps. He turned swiftly... no one.

"Computer, scan central corridor, Deck 6. Report all personnel present."

"One person present: Captain Jean-Luc Picard," the computer replied.

Maybe he really was going mad, he thought. Someone unseen snickered. He felt a touch slide sinuously across his chest then it shoved him hard against the corridor wall. Picard shouted, "Intruder Alert!" No alarms sounded. "Computer!" he called. No response. The snickering laughter grew louder turning into crazed cackling. He ran for the turbolift, but the doors refused to open. He tried side doors leading to other corridors; nothing responded. He was trapped. The wild laughter continued growing louder and more threatening.

"Who are you?" he yelled. "What do you want?"

Instantly he was ensnared in the grasp of an invisible presence pulling him down to the floor. Things he couldn't see wrapped themselves around him pinning him. He felt as if he were being simultaneously stroked and pinched and tickled and bitten all over while shrieks of hysterical laughter filled his ears. The onslaught of conflicting sensations was overwhelming. He cried out for release, struggling to escape this sheathe of sensory input, but his efforts seemed useless and his cries went unheard. He felt his strength ebbing to the point that death seemed a distinct possibility then abruptly the attack ceased and the maniacal laughter faded to nothing. He lay there covered in perspiration barely able to breathe. He took hold of the corridor railing and dragged himself to his feet. He could feel his distress echoing in Shea's mind. She was coming for him.

"Red Alert!" he called. Now the alarms flashed on. He needed to get to the bridge. Shea would meet him there. "Computer, scan for unauthorized alien life forms," he ordered.

The ship computer answered. "None present."

"Well, _something_ was here!" he growled. He limped toward the turbolift. It opened and he rode it to the bridge. As he stepped out he was still winded and shaking. Riker took one look at him and called for Dr. Crusher. Worf grabbed the Captain ignoring Picard's weak protests and half carried him to his chair.

"What's happened to you?" Riker asked urgently. "Why are we on Red Alert?"

"Something attacked me on Deck 6," Picard replied hoarsely. "We have an intruder, perhaps more than one."

Beverly arrived on the scene and began checking him. "You appear to be exhausted but there's no tissue damage," she concluded. He nodded and wiped the sweat from his face.

"I have completed an intensive scan of the ship, Captain. I find no evidence of any alien life forms," Data informed him.

Picard scowled, shaking his head then turned to see Shea step out of the turbo-lift. Picard knew she had felt his distress, but it was more than concern he felt from her now. It was sorrow… and fear. The first puzzled him, the second alarmed him, he started to speak to her when suddenly all the lights began flashing on and off and the ship lurched sideways.

"We have lost helm control!" Data reported.

"Go to manual!" Picard yelled bracing himself.

"No response. All controls are off-line."

The ship seemed to be spinning out of control. The crew hung on as best they could. Some lost their grip and went careening into walls and rolling across floors. Suddenly the wild spinning stopped and the lights returned to normal.

"Status report!" Picard called.

"All decks reporting in, sir," Data said. "No damage or serious injuries. However, I am unable to get any reading on our current position."

Picard ordered the view screen activated.

"The view screen _is_ on, sir," Data informed him.

Picard and the others stared at its blankness. They looked up at the clear dome above their heads into what should have been a black field pierced with the glowing stars of space. Instead there was just a grey nothing. It was just like when he had stepped back through the portal and found himself in the _Nothing_ with...

"Q!" he yelled, "Show yourself!" He waited, there was no response. "Q! I know you're responsible for this. I demand you explain your actions!"

"Captain, what are you blathering about?" Q flashed into existence on the bridge draped in dripping aqua-green vines, "I was basking in the delightful waters of Pacifica with the meroids. You have some nerve interrupting me."

"And you have some nerve taking control of my ship and throwing us into this void!"

"My ship, my ship. There you go again. Anyway I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't bring you here. You must have done something foolish to your warp core or some such thing." He glanced over and spotted Shea staring at him. "There you are. We finally meet face-to-face. You certainly have been entertaining."

"You're a member of the Continuum," she said, her fear palpable. Picard watched her in amazement. He had never known her to be afraid. "I'm not supposed to talk to you," she whispered and looked away.

"That's not very friendly," Q admonished her, "After all I've done to bring the two of you together."

"Fool!" she hissed angrily, "Why couldn't you have just minded your own business?"

Then she simply vanished. Picard searched for her with his mind, but there was no response.

"What have you done with her?" Picard demanded.

"It wasn't me." Q stared back at him. Then the turbolift doors opened and a tall figure stepped onto the bridge. It was the last person, Picard expected to see.

"Derek!"

"Hello, Captain. I see you returned to your time safely."

Derek stood there calmly, looking exactly the same as Picard remembered right down to the sophisticated dark silk clothing he had been wearing. Derek turned to Q with an amused look.

"Aren't you going to say hello, Q?"

Suddenly Q's eyes grew wide in recognition and he flashed out of existence. With a blur of motion faster than their human eyes could register, Derek's arm reached an impossibly long distance across the width of the bridge into the flash of light and drew Q back hanging by his throat in Derek's clenched fist. Q struggled in Derek's hand like something possessed, arms and legs flapping wildly, then Derek said softly, "Relax."

Instantly, Q stopped flailing and dropped his limbs heavily to his sides. He continued to relax until it seemed as if his very bones were melting. Derek wiggled him gently making Q's body quiver like a gelatinous mass. "Much better," Derek pronounced then dropped him on the floor where he sank into a puddle of flesh covered goo with nothing solid but a pair of eyes popping up out of what once a head. The eyes blinked and a pair of rubbery lips moved, "D, please, this is most distressing!"

"You should have considered the consequences before you chose to meddle in things which do not concern you," Derek replied coldly.

The loose ends were pulling together in Picard's mind. Derek was a Q or worse. It was all starting to make sense and it made Picard furious. He was tired of omnipotent beings toying with them.

"If the two of you have a dispute, take it elsewhere. Your presence here is not appreciated. Release my ship and return Commander Shea," he demanded.

"Patience, Captain, I'll get to you in moment," Derek dismissed him, then turned back to the puddle, "What do you have to say for yourself, Q?"

"Please, D..." Q continued his imploring tone, "The Q were simply curious. We meant no disrespect. It was just a little fun, a pleasantry. No harm done!"

"Who are you to judge what harm has been done?" Derek snarled at him, "Everything is tainted now. You have no understanding of my intent."

"Then teach me, wise one. Who better to understand than your own?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Q. I may have spawned you, but you are not like me. You are no closer to me than these humans are to you. A matter of interest perhaps, even entertaining, but a far cry from equal. I am as nearly incomprehensible to you as you are to them, as the source of my creation is to me, and as these people are to this fur-covered ball of instinct," Derek was suddenly holding Data's panic-stricken pet cat by the scruff of its neck. Data stood up looking alarmed, "Spot!" he called. Derek tossed the hissing wild-eyed animal into Data's arms where it clung desperately with its claws. Derek turned his attention to the Captain.

"Doesn't Spot regard you as gods, Picard? Do you not have the power of life and death over your pets and thousands of other less developed life-forms? You are as powerful a being to them as Q is to you. And so it goes in ever ascending and descending levels, as infinite as the multi-universes themselves."

"Oh great D, magnanimous D" Q mewled from his puddle again, "I grant that you exceed me in all things, but I have so much potential... you must grant me that as I have these humans in whom I take such interest. Give me a chance!"

Derek seemed to consider for a moment, then waved a hand. The ship lurched forward then spun wildly once more followed by a terrible sense of falling. Then just as abruptly as before, all motion stopped. The Enterprise crew picked themselves up from various uncomfortable positions throughout the ship. Picard once again demanded a status report. Again, thankfully, there appeared to be no serious damage to anyone or anything. Picard knew he had to confront this being and attempt reasoning with him if at all possible.

"Derek, I assume that you are the 'Old One" that Q told me about," Picard deduced.

Derek looked at the blinking puddle at his feet and kicked it viciously making Q squeal.

"Telling tales out of school, are we, Q?"

"Why are you here? Why did you attack me?" Picard asked pointedly.

Derek regarded him seriously for a moment then gave him that same shark smile Picard had found so unnerving before. It wasn't any better in the present.

"Actually, that wasn't me. I believe you've met my boys," Derek pointed to his left and there stood the same three pale long-haired young men Picard remembered from before. They regarded him impassively with their deceptively angelic faces. "I sent them here to check on Shea, but your connection to her drew them like a flame. They got a bit distracted with you momentarily." He paused regarding Picard's haggard face, "Shea has gradually learned to withstand their attentions, if not quite enjoy them. It appears you are still suffering from the effects. Allow me."

Derek stepped towards Picard and lightly touched his shoulder with a fingertip. Instantly Picard felt an infusion of warmth spread throughout his body and with it the return of his strength. The sensation was uncomfortably intimate, and familiar. Picard jumped to his feet and backed away putting the chair between them.

"What's the matter, Captain? Didn't you enjoy the touch of _MY_ benevolence?" Derek sneered.

"I'm surprised you would bother," Picard said calming himself with some effort, "I had the distinct impression you didn't like me very much."

"True, but I do find you intriguing," Derek replied, "which is why I allowed this charade to begin in the first place."

"Explain," Picard demanded.

"Captain, where are your manners? I'm not one of your underlings you can order about. You are entirely at my mercy and I should advise you to keep that in mind when addressing me," Derek warned him icily.

Picard suppressed his anger and spoke to Derek as politely as he could manage, "I beg your pardon. Please explain."

"That is why I brought you here," Derek smiled.

Q began squirming on the floor again, "D, don't do this. They're not ready."

"No, but I will give them a taste of it just the same. As for you, Q, let's see if you're ready." Derek dramatically waved his arms and announced grandly, "WELCOME TO THE CHAOS!"

The main viewer came to life and there on the screen swirled a nebulous mass of maddeningly impossible shapes and colors. Things which at moments seemed almost recognizable whirled and twisted before them into grotesque monstrous forms that their human minds simply couldn't accept or even endure. The same frenzied madness could be seen through the dome above. Nothing in the maelstrom made any sense whatsoever. The bridge crew reeled in confusion. Picard felt as if his sanity were being stripped away. Even with his eyes squeezed shut against it he could feel its presence boring into his soul. Desperately, he yelled to Data, "Turn off the viewer! Close the blast shields on all portals!"

The screen went mercifully blank, and the agonizing vortex scene through the dome above and portals throughout the ship was blocked from view. The maddening presence in his mind also faded. Picard removed his hands from his eyes and looked about. The others, too, were slowly recovering from the onslaught. Data seemed the only one unaffected other than Derek and perhaps Q. In Q's current condition, it was hard to tell what effect it had had.

Data turned wide yellow eyes to Derek. "Fascinating," he said.

"I'm glad you can appreciate it, Mr. Data. Few can," Derek sighed in satisfaction. "You have been privileged to take a peek at the face of eternity."

"If that's eternity, I don't want any part of it," Riker declared still shaken.

"Well, that's up to you, of course. There are an infinite number of eternities, some of which you might find more pleasant. 'The mind is its own place, and in itself, Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n," he quoted.

"John Milton, _Paradise Lost_," Picard said recognizing the source.

"Very good, Captain," Derek confirmed apparently pleased.

Picard went on, remembering another passage from Milton's ancient poem, "…with other notes then to th' ORPHEAN Lyre I sung of CHAOS and ETERNAL NIGHT…"

Derek chuckled in appreciation. "You do know your literature. Milton was a tedious man, blinded by preconceived notions, but he did manage to get a few things right. This is my home, my birthplace, if you will. Here nothing is as it seems, all is in flux, and time does not exist except as potential."

"If you like it so much, why did you ever leave?" Riker asked bitterly.

"Not by choice, Commander, I assure you. I am a singularity. The culmination of my predecessors holding the essence of each of them within me. When time began I was violently thrown from the Chaos into the physical universe. Everything... changed and my progeny were born fragmented into what Q calls the Continuum."

"And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him." Picard quoted.

Derek looked at him in surprise and smiled wider. "Now you're spouting Bible verses? Oh my... Revelation 12:9 -King James Version, I believe. If you start trying to exorcise me, you'll have me in stitches!"

"Might be worth a try," Riker said.

Derek laughed. "Be my guest."

"D!" Q pleaded through rubbery lips, "If we combined our energies, you could be whole again!"

Derek regarded the puddle with disdain.

"Once perhaps that may have seemed desirable," he replied. "but no longer. I have learned how to return to the Chaos at will now to revel in its pleasures, meld with its music, feel my energy renewed, my sense of self restored." He closed his eyes as if in ecstasy. When he opened them again he turned to Picard, "You once asked Shea the source of her music. This is the source, Captain."

"Where is she?" Picard asked again.

"Out there, reconnecting," Derek gestured outward.

"She'll go mad!" Picard said desperately.

"No," Derek shook his head with a smile, "She won't. She belongs here as much as I do."

"What do you mean?" Picard asked fearfully.

"Shea is part of me, Captain. I created her for myself."

Picard leaned heavily against his chair. His legs suddenly felt too unsteady to carry his weight. "What... what would you want with a woman?" Picard asked.

Derek smiled, "The same as any man, dear Captain. I just wanted a better one."

"But you're not human," Picard argued, "This form we see is merely a manifestation, is it not? Q doesn't exhibit such interests. Why would you?"

"Q and I are only marginally related. This form I take is more than a mere whim. In my own way, I am as human as you." Derek seemed to be enjoying himself, basking in their attention. "Eons ago, I came across your world in the early stages of its evolution. I needed a place to hide, to rest, to grow and understand this new phenomenon you call time and space. I immersed myself in your reality. I evolved with your life forms from amino-acid based floating scum into the shapes and intellects you now call human. I have grown comfortable wearing your skin, walking your Earth as a man, feeling and needing as a man would. I am like you, only more so. My needs are greater, more intense, less easily satisfied than your own. Human females are so tragically fragile, their minds and bodies easily broken. I require something more resilient, more in tune with myself." Derek's eyes took on the faraway look of chaos personified, "My previous attempts were less than satisfactory. As always I began with my own flesh, combined it with the most desirable traits I could find from other races throughout the universe, but this time I brought her to consciousness with the essence of the ancestors which reside in me. She is my fantasy brought gloriously to life - my daughter, my sister, my predecessor, my mate."

"Devil's Spawn!" Worf growled.

"Worf!" Picard silenced him urgently. Insulting a being that intimidated the Q did not seem wise. Especially if he was as insane as he appeared. Derek just chuckled.

"My reputation precedes me," he said with an amused smile.

"Is that what you claim to be to us?" Picard asked cautiously, "the Devil?"

"Your titles have no meaning, Picard. What is in a name...?"

"It is the concept to which I refer," Picard answered.

"You cannot conceive my nature or my purpose. It is beyond your sensibilities," Derek informed him.

"Then why do you come among us, what is it you seek?" Picard demanded unable to disguise his frustration any longer.

"Entertainment for one. Humans are endlessly entertaining," he smiled, "but most of all for recognition."

"What do you mean - recognition?" Picard asked.

"I cannot receive understanding, Picard, but I can be recognized. I deserve that much."

"And just what is it that we are supposed to recognize?" Picard was losing his patience.

"Why, yourselves of course!" Derek pronounced dramatically with a sweeping gesture, "Am I not a reflection of you magnified to the point of excess? All my dreams, desires and impulses come directly from you. I am the embodiment of your deepest and darkest wishes, your hopes and ambitions, your fears and self loathing. You have made me what I am. If you do not like what you see, you have only yourselves to blame."

Picard considered Derek's words carefully. After a few moments he spoke again hoping to placate this powerful but erratic being.

"Very well, Derek, I recognize you. I know who you are."

"Thank you, Captain," Derek bowed slightly, "I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"Now, will you release us?" Picard asked, then on further consideration added, "Please."

"I am considered by most to be a civilized man, Captain, and since you have asked so politely..." Derek swept his arm grandly and the ship lurched once more. When the stomach churning motion finally stopped, a field of stars was once again visible on the viewscreen and through the dome above.

"Thank you," Picard said.

"My pleasure," Derek responded equally polite and pointed toward the Q puddle at his feet. "Unlike Q here, I don't torture people merely for amusement. Only for a purpose." Derek grabbed the Q by the edges, snapped him flat like a sheet of fabric, folded the whimpering being neatly and deposited him into an impossibly small breast pocket. Derek patted the slight bulge in his jacket, "We have some things to discuss, Q." The bulge squirmed and squeaked in protest. Derek smashed it flat. He turned back to Picard, "I'll be leaving you now. You may go back to living your little lives. I have what I came for."

"Derek!" Picard stopped him just as he seemed ready to vanish, "Release Shea...please."

"No, Captain, she is not for you," Derek chided him. "When I finally sever the connection between you, it will be a bit of shock. Best prepare yourself."

"Wait!" Picard tried desperately to stall him. "What was the point? Why did you send her here in the first place?"

"I _allowed _her to come here," Derek corrected him, "specifically to meet you...again."

"Why? What kind of cruel joke is this?"

"The kind that allows learning. You are merely an ingredient in her continuing education. Shea has incredible potential but she's a mere infant. She has been begging to return to Starfleet insisting on completing this time-circle. At first, I had little interest in the idea. I wasn't particularly impressed with you, but then something happened that changed my mind. You turned down the Nexus. You gave up every dream, every cherished fantasy in favor of this," Derek swept his hand at their surroundings, then peered at Picard closely, "I was curious just how far this willpower of yours could go before the breaking point. Unfortunately, Q meddled and now the results are meaningless."

"It wasn't meaningless to us," Riker told him forcefully.

"Oh, Commander, I almost forgot about you," Derek turned to him, "You were an interesting ingredient as well. Too bad it couldn't all play out. Well, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, but it's done now. This lesson is over."

Derek, and his entourage vanished, leaving Picard and his bridge crew staring at the suddenly empty spaces.

And then it hit him. Picard collapsed to his knees, the sudden void in his mind became a screaming hole of pain. Distantly he felt hands upon him and people calling his name, but they were drowned out by the screams. He knew he was the one screaming, but he could not stop.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Data reported that all systems were back on line, no damage to the ship had occurred. Picard acknowledged him blankly, having just now returned to the bridge, but still under the influence of Dr. Crusher's potent painkillers and mood stabilizers. He issued orders to resume their previous heading and turned over the bridge to Riker who reflected his own stunned expression. Picard retreated to his ready room. There in privacy, the impact of what had occurred hit him again like a slow sledgehammer. He sank into the chair at his desk and once more called out to her in his mind. Shea did not answer. The connection had been severed. The emptiness within him was nearly unbearable. He struggled for control not wanting to give in to the grief he felt. His door chimed and he sat up straighter composing his features into their normal impassiveness. "Come" he said.

Riker, Troi and Crusher entered cautiously and stood before him. Counselor Troi spoke first, "Captain, we just wanted to say how sorry we are. And that we're here if you need us."

Picard just nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Captain," Riker said, "Although Shea and I never fully bonded, I probably understand better than anyone how you feel. But as much as you and I enjoyed her company, her presence here was obviously not in the best interests of this ship. And now that we know her true nature..." Riker shook his head meaningfully.

Picard nodded reluctantly, though his heart wasn't in it. He met Deanna's gaze again. "It is apparent, Counselor, that your warnings to us were well founded."

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said, "I take no satisfaction in having my fears confirmed."

"Thank you, Counselor," he replied sadly, "Now, if you will all excuse me, I would like to be alone."

The three of them nodded and turned to leave. When the door hissed open, they gasped in one unified breath. Derek stood facing them. He strode into the ready room as they backed away.

"Forgive me for interrupting this sad little scene, but I have a proposition. In an effort to redeem himself, Q has suggested a way to save my experiment and I'm willing to give it a try."

He swept his arm around the room. The walls and ceiling vanished into nothing and were suddenly replaced by hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of incandescent multicolored lines running parallel to each other. The lines pulsed and glowed as if alive. They had no visible beginning or end, stretching further above and below the small remaining circle of floor than their eyes could see.

"What's all this?" Picard demanded looking about as he stood up.

"Timelines, Captain. Each one represents a set of possibilities, probabilities, even inevitabilities. In this particular one you are now experiencing, Q and I have revealed the nature of our true selves to you. In the others, we are hidden as mere voices in your mind blending with your conscious and subconscious thoughts. These lines show what might occur if Shea were to stay here with you. In this one," Derek pointed to a bluish-white line near him, "she ends up leaving, and your life goes forward pretty much as you had previously anticipated. Dull but predictable. But now over here," he pointed to another luminous string with a purple hue, "you and Riker are bonded with her; she stays; you and Riker have a vicious quarrel in which you are killed; Riker goes to prison. Nobody wins. While over here," he pointed to another pulsing a pale red, "you kill Riker in self-defense. On the plus side, you get to keep Shea… for awhile." He moved to another line, "Here, no one dies, but the two of you absolutely hate each other and Shea finally gives up in disgust and leaves." He moved on again, "In this one, you resolve your differences and form sort of a three-way marriage...hmmm, that's interesting. Maybe happy-ever-after really is possible," he chuckled looking at it closely, then turned to another line, "Now here's a dramatic one!" He looked at Beverly in amusement, "Shea stays but Dr. Crusher conspires to do her in and not surprisingly ends up dead herself. Quite tragic." He clucked piously and moved on. "In this one, both you and Riker manage to maintain a relationship with her, although the strain of it costs you your careers." He glanced at them then moved to still another line. "Here, Shea stays on the _Enterprise _juggling her relationship with the both of you and you manage to tolerate each other for quite some time until... oh, well, I think you get the idea," Derek concluded with a tedious sigh. He twirled a hand and the lines vanished from view. The walls of the ready room reappeared as solid as before.

"What's the point of showing us this?" Picard asked.

"I wanted a fair test, Captain, but Q's involvement skewed it. I've decided the only way to rectify the situation is to inform you of the possible consequences to see if the pleasure is worth the price."

"What does that mean?" Picard asked not daring to hope.

"It means, Picard, that you have a choice. In this time-line only, you may choose for yourself whether Shea returns to you or not, and I promise you that Q will not meddle. That way I can learn what I wanted to learn at the start of this little farce," Derek stood watching him in anticipation, "You now know what she is. You've glimpsed a whole gamut of possible futures if she returns...some tragic, some comical, all intriguing. If you choose a future with her, I assure you, you won't be bored. But it's risky, isn't it Captain? She's such a delightfully disruptive element, plus you would of course have to deal with me, as I'm part of the package. I wouldn't necessarily interfere, but I would be a presence. Imagine having me for an in-law. Nothing would ever be quite the same, would it? So, Captain, how does the final scene play out? Will you risk it all in the hope of finding that rare happy ending or admit defeat and cut your losses? In short, does she stay or does she go?"

Picard stared at him nearly surrendering to the overwhelming need to tell him she should stay, but his wiser inner counsel held him back, and he said, "I...I need time to consider."

"Yes, I'm sure." Derek smiled but the look was hungry. "It's quite a dilemma and your decision will have far reaching consequences. I'll leave you to ponder, but not for long."

Derek vanished again leaving them alone. Picard slowly sat down.

"Captain," Deanna ventured, "May I speak?" Picard nodded. "You have to let her go, sir. I know it's difficult, but D or Derek - whatever you call him - was right when he said she's not for you. I don't trust him nor anything he's told us, but I think that may be the one honest thing he's said. Her presence here is clearly disruptive."

Picard looked to Riker, who seemed to be wrestling with some internal demons of his own. "And how do you feel about this, Number One?"

Riker hesitated but answered finally. "I'd rather not find out which one of us kills the other one first. Captain, I'd like to think we could handle it. That with this forewarning we'd have enough sense to resolve our differences but... I don't know. She has a strange influence. I'm afraid we might never be friends again. As much as I want her back, I know it's madness."

Picard closed his eyes at the bitter honesty of his first officer. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped to hear. He opened them again and looked at Beverly.

"And you, Doctor?" he asked.

"You know how I feel, Jean-Luc," she replied simply.

"So you all believe it is in everyone's best interest that I send her away, that I turn my back on her and let this monster do with her whatever he wants," Picard glared at them. "Words were said, promises were made. How can I betray her like that?" He felt a cold fury enter him and he turned to Riker. "How can _you_?"

"She was never honest with us," Riker glared back at him, "We had no idea who or what we were dealing with. She's been manipulating us all along, playing us against each other. If Derek's a monster then so is she."

The Captain was on his feet. "I don't believe that!" Picard bellowed with clenched fists, "I knew her heart. Our thoughts were one!"

"Maybe. Or maybe she only made you think they were. Maybe all you knew and felt was what she wanted you to. She never revealed her true nature, not to me, not even to you. It was all just some sadistic game."

"No!" Picard looked as if he wanted to tear Riker apart and for a moment Beverly and Deanna wondered if they would have to jump between them. Instead, Captain Picard determinedly reigned himself in, forcing his fists to relax. "This is no game," Picard answered grimly. "The last thing I felt from her was sheer terror. She wants no part of this being."

"And do you want part of him, Captain?" Riker demanded forcefully. "Derek said they're a package deal! Are you willing to jeopardize the safety of this ship for your own selfish pleasure?"

Picard still glared angrily, but the impact of Riker's words bit into his soul echoing his own self-recriminations. He had his duty, his responsibilities. Gradually but inevitably, like a huge boulder breaking loose from above and rolling him down, he could feel his personal hopes and dreams being buried alive under the weight. Riker had only given voice to what Picard already knew, but was trying so very hard to suppress in his own conscience. He didn't want to do this. He felt as if, once more, he were setting his own phaser on overload.

In one long painful breath, Picard surrendered to the unavoidable necessity of embracing his duty, and the steep price he would pay for it.

"No," he replied at last, "No, of course I'm not."

"Then you have to send her away," Riker said.

"And so once more the people she trusts most betray her." Picard shook his head, feeling the sting of tears welling in his eyes. "I wonder if and when she is ever free, she will think of us with any kindness. We continue to sacrifice her interests for our own. Condemning the child for the sins of the parent. It's not something to be proud of."

"Maybe not, but I don't think we really have a choice," Riker said firmly. "We can't handle these beings, Captain. We're practically at each others' throats."

Derek suddenly appeared before them again. This time he was shadowed by his three white-blond companions. Picard wondered painfully what they had been doing to her. For a moment, he almost lost his resolve.

"Well, Captain," he said with eager curiosity. "Have you made your choice?"

Looking into Derek's cold greedy eyes, Picard found the strength to do what he had to. He nodded and spoke, though his voice shook with the effort of the forming the necessary words. "I... I cannot risk the welfare of this ship and crew for my personal gain. Shea must not return."

"You're giving her up?" Derek regarded him with undisguised amazement, "Oh, that is impressive, Picard. Sad, a little foolish even, but impressive. You will miss her, and life will seem empty by comparison. Nevertheless, it shall be as you have chosen. Good-bye then, Captain."

"Wait! Please," Picard called to him. "I need some answers at least."

Derek paused in mid-gesture, looking intrigued. "You may ask."

"What's to become of her?"

"Her education will continue, of course. Which reminds me..." Derek turned to the three young men who while remaining absolutely motionless up to this point had somehow multiplied into six identical beings. "Go to her," he ordered. Each of their previously expressionless faces simultaneously lit up with incredibly disagreeable smiles and they vanished. Picard felt his heart breaking. Derek turned back to him. "You may ask one last question."

Picard hated to think what they would do to her. Yet he knew he was powerless to stop it. This might be his last chance to understand what had happened, what would happen. But he only really cared to know one thing.

"Will I ever see her again?"

"Regrets? Already?" Derek smirked at him. "Not that I'm surprised. Unlikely is the answer." Derek paused reflecting, "The human experience is a vital part of her education, but at this point I don't see how further interaction with you personally would be of benefit. Then again, it is our prerogative to change our minds, isn't it, Captain? So who knows?" he snorted and turned to go. He hesitated then pivoted back flashing them that horrific smile, "There's always _shore leave_!" he laughed and vanished, leaving the sound echoing derisively. Precisely at that moment, the door opened and Data stepped into the ready room with them. He tilted his head curiously as the lingering echo faded.

"Excuse me for interrupting, sir," Data said politely. "Something has activated a subconscious program Shea apparently placed in me. I was not previously aware of its existence until this moment. I have had the results of the research you requested for some time but she apparently prevented my revealing them to you until now." He stepped forward and handed the Captain a folder.

At first Picard couldn't recall what Data was referring to, but since it somehow related to Shea he sat down to open it. He pulled out a stack of hard-copied documents. On top was a copy of a birth certificate. Shea's son. He immediately searched for the father's name... _John Pike_. He closed his eyes tightly, leaning into his hand. The welled tears escaped at last.

"Captain," Deanna asked worriedly, "are you all right?"

He couldn't answer at first. After a moment, he wiped the tell-tale moisture from his face, "I... I've just learned that I have a son."

Riker stepped forward to pick up the papers. "You're John Pike?" Riker asked. Picard nodded.

"There are also three grandchildren, eight great grandchildren, eleven great-great grandchildren, plus assorted cousins, nephews and nieces." Data reported.

"She never told you?" Beverly asked incredulously while looking at the documents over Riker's shoulder. Picard shook his head.

"Congratulations," Riker said, his voice filled with irony.

Picard stared off in the distance in shock. "I wonder if any of them would be interested in a winery?" he whispered to himself. Then he realized they were all staring at him, each wearing the same expression of combined worry and amazement. He struggled with his own conflicting emotions.

"Captain...," Deanna began, but Picard held his hand up to stop her.

"Please, no more counseling just now," Picard stated firmly.

"No, sir," she answered. "It's just that we all care for you. This must be a great shock and on top of everything else that's happened..."

"I thank you for your concern," he replied before she could finish, "all of you. I shall recover… in time, I assure you."

"We know you will," Beverly said tenderly, "I'm sure Shea knew it, too. That's probably what attracted her to you in the first place."

Picard looked at Beverly's sweet face seeing the affection within. Despite his inner turmoil, he could sense the stirring of old feelings for her.

"Captain," Data spoke. "I also carry a personal message. Addressed to all of us."

"A message?" Picard echoed in dismay, wondering how much more he could take.

"Yes, sir," Data responded evenly. He placed a hand-sized cube on the desk, then activated it. A small holographic image of Shea appeared accompanied by her voice.

"I was hoping this never needed to be played because it will mean that I have been forced to leave you. When Data told me Q was responsible for Captain Picard's time travel, I realized that my sudden departure was a distinct possibility. As you've undoubtedly learned by now, my life is not my own. Jean-Luc, I'm sorry about not telling you about your progeny. I thought if I stayed…, but now that I won't be with you, they may be your only heirs. I know I've been disruptive. It's a fundamental part of my nature over which I seem to have little control. Most likely, you will soon interpret my influence as some bizarre aberration. Just as well, I suppose. The sooner you can return to your normal lives, the better."

The message ended abruptly and the image disappeared. Picard reached over hoping to activate it again but it would not replay.

"Apparently, the message and image have self-erased," Data observed.

"No souvenirs," Riker surmised.

Picard nodded, staring at the cube dejectedly. He noticed a small panel on the bottom and slid it open revealing an inside compartment. He tipped it over and dumped the contents into his hand. There in his palm lay his old communicator badge, now badly pitted and worn by the ravages of time.

"She kept it all these years," he said in hushed voice. He ran his fingers over the dented imperfections wondering what stories each of them might tell, then squeezed it tightly in his fist to the point of pain. "What have I done?"

"The right thing, sir," Deanna stated with conviction.

"I'm not so sure," he said quietly. "She gave me everything I hoped for. A ship to command, my health, even children, not to mention herself. Now look how I've repaid her. I'd give anything to take it back."

"You made the only choice you could, Captain," Deanna reminded him. "You'll miss her. We all will," she said. "Each of us in our own way."

Picard looked up at her and smiled slightly, "I don't think Mr. Worf would agree."

"On the contrary, "Worf will miss her a great deal. He told me that before she came, it was as if he had been asleep. He reveled in the conflict, being kept on edge. It made him feel alive."

"Maybe that's why she came," Picard said taking a small comfort in the thought. "To shake us out of our complacency."

"A swift kick in the pants?" Riker asked.

"Something like that, Number One."

"Shea instinctively gave each of us what we subconsciously wanted," Deanna said in agreement. "In my case, she gave me the counseling challenge of my life. My office has never been busier. Every day since her arrival someone new would come in to discuss a life-questioning issue resulting from some pithy comment of hers. I found it very stimulating. Worf got the conflict he desired. She gave Beverly what she wanted too."

Beverly at first looked startled then smiled in amazement, "I guess she did. I've spent nearly all my time since she arrived researching her ability to spontaneously regenerate damaged and even missing tissue. I was so caught up in it that I barely paid attention to anything else. The results are certain to get written up in the medical journals."

The group next turned to Riker. "Well I think you all probably can guess what she gave me. I don't suppose you want me to go into the details."

"No, spare us that," Picard replied then looked to Data. "And how about you, Data? Is there something special Shea gave you?"

"Yes, sir," Data replied. "Her friendship. She is the only individual with whom I have readily identified. We shared many common traits and experiences. We are both created beings without precedent, neither of us experienced a childhood, and we have struggled to adapt to a human society. I shall miss her companionship and her insight."

"All positive things," Picard observed. "So why have we sent her away?"

"Maybe exactly because she did give us everything we wanted, and what people want isn't necessarily what is good for them," Deanna told him. "Look at how you've been acting since she's been here. Look at how all of us were acting. Her influence was profound but disturbing. I never reported to you the extent of the emotional upheaval she was causing around here - I was so sure I could handle it - but that was a breach of my duties. I made bad choices. We've all made bad choices lately."

Picard let his mind run over recent events. He had taken personal revenge on Admiral Conners and had harbored a jealous rage against his first officer. He had watched the morale and camaraderie among his staff steadily deteriorate and had done nothing to save it. He had shirked his duties allowing personal interest to supersede his responsibilities. The more he thought about his behavior, the more appalled he became. What had he been thinking? How could he have let things get so out of control?

His friends continued to watch him, offering in their silence, sympathy and support. He looked at them and realized how important they all were to him, how comforting their presence was. They deserved more than he had been giving. Gradually, the despair lessened, and he felt as if a veil were slowly being lifted from his mind.

Deanna watched him closely, monitoring his feelings. When he met her gaze, she said, "Sir, I sense that you are experiencing a greater clarity of thought."

"Yes," he nodded scowling a little, "It's beginning to dawn on me just how skewed my perspective had become."

Beverly, who had long tried to hide her dismay at his recent activities, now spoke up, "I hope you realize that it wasn't that we didn't want you to be happy. We were just afraid we were losing you."

Picard nodded, meeting her eyes. "I think I very nearly lost myself," he said. He paused for a moment searching for the words to express his state of mind, "I feel... I feel as if I came close to something incredibly dangerous and nearly lost direction. I see now that we all got a little off track." The others nodded in agreement.

"Derek said something about shore leave..." Riker commented with an apprehensive tone.

"Yes," Picard replied thoughtfully, "we may have to deal with this again. Next time, if there is a next time, we must try not to lose our perspective." He shook his head as if still trying to free his thoughts. "It seems that the human race has been dealing with these beings for a very long time, and it doesn't appear that they are going away. However, they are not the only ones evolving. We, too, can learn."

Picard took another deep breath, tugging his shirt smooth. His voice was stronger now, though it still had an edge to it. "Well, it seems we have survived another challenge-perhaps a little more demanding than most, but we've come through intact."

"We always seem to, sir," Riker said, but he failed to sound completely convinced.

"I'm sure we will be debating recent events for a very long time," Picard continued, speaking his thoughts aloud. "I, for one, still have many unanswered questions."

He felt his mood stabilizing and his mind clearing. While he knew he would never forget, he recognized his old resolve and priorities returning. His duty was to the men and women of this ship, the _USS Enterprise_. He was their Captain. He looked at the worried faces before him, determined to set their minds at ease.

"There is one thing I am certain of," he said. "It's going to make one hell of a report."

When they laughed, he knew the healing had begun.


End file.
